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LETTERS 


FRpi 


A  LATE  EMINENT  PRELATE 


ONE  OF  HIS  FRIENDS. 


■  Si  imagines  nobis  amicorum  absentiura  jucundae  sunt,  qux  memoriara  reno- 
"  vant,  et  desidei'ium  absentias  falso  atqiie  inani  solatio  levant ;  quantojucun- 
"  diores  sunt  literas,  qux  vera  amici  absentis  vestigia,  veras  notas  afferunt  V 

Sen.  Ep.  XL. 

Les  lettres  des  hommes  celebres  sont,  ordinairement,  la  partie  la  plus 
"  curieuse  de  leur  ecrits." 

PreJ.  a  I  'Hist,  de  Jovieii,  p.  50. 


S.'^'S^'^'S* 


FIRST  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


JVEW-rORir. 
PRINTED  FOR  E.  SARGEANT. 

1809. 


LETTERS, 


Entiy  on  a  blank  page  in  the  front  of  five  Port-Folios,  containing  the 
Originals  of  the  following  Letters. 

"  THESE  Letters  give  so  tnie  a  picture  of  the  Writer'' s  character,  and 
"  are,  besides,  so  ivurthy  of  him  in  all  respects,  (/  mean,  if  the  Reader  can 
"  forgive  the plarifulness  of  Jds  -ivit  in  some  instances,  and  the  partiality  of 
"  his  friendship  in  many  more,)  that,  in  honour  of  his  JMemory,  l-woxdd  have 
"  them  published  after  my  death,  and  the  profits  arising  from  the  sale  of 
"  tJiem,  applied  to  the  benefit  of  the  Worcester  Infirmary. 

"i?.   WORCESTER. 

"  Jamarn  ISM,  ir03." 


LETTERS. 


LETTER  i. 

Mr.  WARE UR  TON  to  Mr,  HURD. 

Bedford- Roxv,  June  1st,  1749. 
Rev.  Sir, 

i  RECEIVED  the  favour  of  your  edition  of  Horace's 
Art  of  Poetry :  for  which  I  beg  leave  to  make  my  best  ac- 
knowledgments. 

You  have  given  very  little  advantage  to  the  critics,  but 
where  you  speak  of  me :  and  yet  m3'  self-love  will  not 
suffer  me  to  wish  it  unsaid,  when  I  consider  how  much 
real  honour  is  done  to  every  one  whom  such  an  author 
commends. 

I  tell  you,  with  all  sincerity,  I  think  the  Notes  one  of 
the  most  masterly  pieces  of  criticism  that  ever  was  writ- 
ten. I  am  sure  (and  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  say  it)  that 
I  should  have  envied  you  for  it,  had  I  not  found  you  so 
generous  to  the  Commentator  of  Mr.  Pope.  As  it  is,  I 
take  a  pride  in  it  as  my  own ;  a  greater  than  I  can  take  in  any 
©f  my  own.  I  wish  it  was  in  my  power  to  make  a  suitable 
acknowledgment  for  my  obligations.  The  best  thing  I  have 
to  offer  you  is  a  very  unprofitable  friendship.  Such  as  it 
is,  you  have  a  right  to  it.     And  if  you  will  make  me  still 

A 


more  your  debtor,  you  must  give  me  yours.     You  Avill  al- 
ways fmd  in  mine  all  the  frankness  and  warmth  wherewith 
I  now  beg  leave  to  subscribe  myself, 
Reverend  Sir, 

Your  very  obliged  and  most  faithful 
humble  servant, 

W.  WARBURTON. 


LETTER  II. 

Dear  Sir, 

I  HAVE  your  obliging  letter  of  the  4th,  which 
but  the  more  coiifirms  me  in  my  good  fortune  in  the  acquisi- 
tion of  so  valuable  a  friend.  After  having  seen  so  much 
of  a  person's  mind  as  one  does  in  a  well-wrote  book,  one 
steps  at  once  into  his  acquaintance.  So  that  you  must  not 
wonder  at  the  familiarity  of  my  demands.  Pray  do  you 
reside  generally  in  College,  or  where  ?  Have  you  ever  any 
calls  to  town?  I  hope  you  have.  lam  here  almost  al- 
ways in  Term-time  ;  and  you  may  be  assured  always  much 
your  servant.  When  I  am  not  here,  I  am  at  Prior-Park, 
near  Bath ;  where  indeed  a  letter  directed  to  me,  under 
cover  to  Ralph  Allen,  Esq.  will  always  find  me  out  where- 
ever  I  am.  For  don't  imagine  I  shall  willingly  suffer  you 
to  drop  our  correspondence.  I  shall  have  too  much  use 
for  it.  And,  if  I  had  you  now  near  me,  I  have  a  great 
deal  of  your  advice  to  ask  concerning  some  projects  I 
have  in  hand,  which  you  shall  know  more  of.  Particularly 
a  tract  on  Julian's  famous  attempt :  that  I  shall  contrive 
to  let  you  see,  to  criticise,  before  I  publish  it.  But  what 
at  present  is  most  in  my  thoughts,  is  to  press  you  to  oblige 
us  with  Horace's  Epistle  to  Augustus,  just  in  the  same 
manner  and  form  you  have  given  us  the  Art  of  Poetry. 


It  will  be  a  fine  field  for  your  talents,  and  complete  what 
is  much  wanted,  a  sensible  comment  on  all  Horace's  criti- 
cal works.  For  I  tell  you  again,  what  you  have  already 
done  is  far  above  the  taste  and  comprehension  of  these 
times.  For  whenever  the  public  taste  is  right,  it  is  set 
so  by  half  a  dozen  fashionable  people  of  good  understand- 
ing, who  lead  the  rest  to  it.  Sometimes  they  readily 
follow,  sometimes  not.  But  what  is  the  genuine  public 
taste,  and  properly  their  own,  is  the  most  wretched  imagina- 
ble. I  have  spoken  of  your  Comment  to  the  best  judges, 
as  it  deserves  ;  and  I  have  already  had  the  thanks  of  some 
of  them  for  my  recommendation. 

I  shall  stay  in  town  above  a  week  longer,  and  then  re- 
turn into  the  West  a  little  by  the  Nortli.     But  wherever  I 
am,  be  assured  you  have, 
Dear  Sir, 

A  very  fiiithful  and  obliged  friend, 
and  humble  servant, 

W.  WARBUKTON. 

Bedford-Roxv,  June  6thj  1749. 


LETTER  III. 

Dear  Sir, 

I  HAVE  your  obliging  letter  of  the  9th  :  I  could  not 
leave  the  town  without  making  my  acknowledgments  for 
it.  Be  assured  every  good  occasion,  that  brings  you  to 
town,  will  give  me  a  particular  pleasure. 

Give  me  leave  to  tell  you,  you  do  not  reason  so  well  by 
a  great  deal  on  the  Epistle  to  Augustus^  as  on  the  Epistle 
io  the  Pisos.  Mr,  Pope,  you  know,  uses  the  Roman  poet 
for  little  more  than  his  canvass.  And,  if  the  old  design  or 
colouring  chance  to  suit  his  purpose,  it  is  well;  if  not,  he 


4 

employs  his  own,  without  ceremony  or  scruple.  Hence  it 
is,  that  he  is  so  frequently  serious  where  Horace  is  in  jest, 
and  gay,  where  the  other  is  disgusted.  Had  it  been  his 
purpose  to  paraphrase  an  ancient  satirist,  he  had  hardly 
made  choice  of  Horace ;  with  v/hom,  as  a  poet,  he  held 
little  in  common,  besides  his  comprehensive  knowledge  of 
life  and  manners,  and  a  certain  curious  felicity  of  expres- 
«ion,  which  consists  in  using  the  simplest  language  with 
dignity,  and  the  most  adorned,  with  ease.  But  his  har- 
mon}'^  and  strength  of  numbers,  his  force  and  splendour  of 
colouring,  his  gravity  and  sublime  of  sentiment,  are  of 
another  school.  \i  you  ask  then  why  he  took  any  body  to 
imitate,  I  will  tell  you  these  imitations  being  of  the  nature 
of  parodies,  they  add  a  borrowed  grace  and  vigour  to  his 
original  wit. 

On  all  these  accounts  his  poem  should  rather  excite  you 
than  otherwise.  Besides  I  am  sure  there  is  opportunity 
for  many  important  observations  in  the  poetical  way. 
But  as  soon  as  I  can  get  my  notes  on  this  Imitation  in 
a  condition  to  be  read,  you  shall  see  them,  to  convince 
you  how  much  a  good  comment  on  this  Epistle  is 
wanted. 

My  discourse  on  Julian,  that  is,  as  much  as  I  have 
done  of  it,  is  gone  to  the  press,  which,  when  I  can  get 
enough  worth  sending,  you  shall  have.  It  is  in  three 
parts.  In  the  first  I  endeavour  to  establish  the  fact :  in 
the  second  I  answer  to  objections  of  various  kinds  :  and 
in  the  third  I  discuss  this  question,  "  What  evidence  is 
"  required,  and  what  is  its  peculiar  nature,  that  will 
"  justify  a  reasonable  man  in  giving  credit  to  a  miraculous 
"  fact?"  A  question  much  easier  asked  than  answered* 
Believe  me,  dear  sir,  to  be  in  a  particular  manner, 
Your  faithful  friend, 

and  obedient  servant, 

W.  WARBURTON. 

Bcdford-RoWf  JunetZth,  1740, 


p.  S.  I  am  pleased  with  one  thing  you  tell  me,  which  is, 
that  your  residence  is  generally  in  College.  I  think 
it  should  be  so,  as  it  will  keep  you  more  advan- 
tageously in  the  world's  eye,  till  merit  and  good 
luck  bring  you  out  with  distinction.  You  ask  about 
Lord  Bolingbroke's  advertisement.  The  pamphlet 
called  "  A  Letter  to  the  Editor,"  he.  will  let  you 
into  the  fact. 


LETTER  IV. 

Prior-Park^  August  6t/i,  1749. 
Dear  Sir, 

I  HAVE  the  pleasure  of  yours  of  the  24th  past. 
You  must  not  expect  too  much  from  my  yiilmn.  It  is 
part  of  the  trade  of  pamphleteers  to  set  off  their  ware  by 
pompous  titles.  I  think  you  judge  right  of  the  inquirer 
and  his  inquiries,  as  you  do  of  another  fashionable 
writer,  who  is  in  politics  just  what  this  is  in  divinity. 
And  I  am  persuaded  this  character  of  them  would  sa- 
tisfy them  both  ;  so  good  an  opinion  they  have  mutually 
of  one  another.     But  I   esteem  Dr.  Middleton  to  be  an 

honest   man,  and  the  other  the  greatest in  the  king-- 

dom.  This,  and  my  acquaintance  with  him,  and  my 
dislike  of  his  adversaries'  scheme,  make  me  begin  the 
discourse  in  a  manner  he  ought  not  to  dislike,  and  con- 
clude it  in  a  manner,  I  am  sure,  they  will  not  approve. 
But  a  deluge  of  answerers  are  coming  out  against  him. 

I  have  seen,  by  the  Bishop  of  London's  favour,  the  new 
edition  of  his  book  on  the  Prophecies.  Whiston,  I  am 
told,  likes  the  "  Appendix  on  the  Fall"  so  litde  that  he 
is  going  to  write  upon  it  himself,  but  on  so  beastly  a 
system  that   he  does  not  think   fit  to  express  himself  in 


English ;    and  the  Italian,  which   is   properest  for  this 
occasion,  he  is  a  stranger  to. 

You  are  so  obliging  on  the  subject  of  the  Epistle  to 
Augustus  that  the  least  I  could  do  was  to  send  you  the 
copy  I  have  prepared  for  the  press,  to  convince  you  there 
is  the  same  necessity  for  your  pen,  as  if  I  had  never  wrote 
a  word  on  the  Imitation.  I  have  indeed  wrote  comments 
as  well  as  notes  on  Mr.  Pope's  Moral  Epistles :  but 
these  on  the  Imitations,  as  you  will  see  by  this  specimen, 
are  merely  occasional  remarks.  But  if  this  will  not  in- 
duce you  to  execute  my  scheme  ;  I  here  give  you,  with 
a  good  deal  of  fair  paper,  a  fair  opportunity  of  enrich- 
ing my  edition  with  your  remarks,  and  in  good  earnest 
I  hope  you  will  do  me  this  honour.  But  what  should 
hinder  you  from  doing  both  ?  Not  the  want  of  that  true 
esteem  with  which  I  professs  myself   to  be,  Sec. 

You  need  not  send  the  MS,  back  till  I  acquaint  you 
with  my  want  of  it,  or  that  you  have  an  opportu- 
nity of  sending  to  Mr.  Knapton,  bookseller,  in 
Ludgate-Street. 


LETTER  V. 

Deak  Sir, 

I  HAVE  tlie  pleasure  of  your  two  last  kind  letters. 
Though  I  know  I  am  to  place  your  good  opinion  of  the 
trifle  I  sent  to  you  to  your  favourable  partiality,  yet  that 
does  not  much  abate  the  satisfaction  I  receive  in  your 
approbation. 

I  think  myself  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  inclina- 
tion to  comply  with  my  request  in  writing  on  the  Epistle 
to  Augustus.  I  think  the  scheme  of  making  it  an  ap- 
pendix to  the  Ar.s-  poet,  a  good  one,  and  I  have  nothing 


further  to  say  on  the  subject  than  to  insist  on  the  perform- 
ance of  your  promise. 

Your  generous  concern  for  the  character  of  a  truly  great 
and  much  injured  man,  Dr.  Bentley,  charms  me.  Part 
of  the  false  judgment  passed  upon  him,  which  I  complain 
of,  is,  that  he  was  esteemed  a  dunce  amongst  wits,  which 
he  was  as  far  from  being  as  any  man.  The  wits  I  meant, 
were  Dr.  Garth,  Dr.  Swift,  Mr.  Pope,  who  were  all  in  the 
interest  of  a  cabal  against  him  ;  and  not  the  Oxford  men, 
whom  I  think,  with  you,  he  beat  at  their  own  weapons. 
On  this  subject  I  must  tell  you  a  story. — The  only  thing 
the  Oxford  people  hit  off  was  Bentley's  plagiarism,  from 
Vizzanius.  And  when  they  had  done,  they  could  not  sup- 
port it  against  Bentley's  defence:  who  solemnly  denies  it, 
avers  it  was  a  calumny,  and  gives  this  proof  of  his  inno- 
cence, that  the  Greek  passage  quoted  by  him  from  Jam- 
blicus,  on  which  both  he  and  Vizzanius  had  founded  their 
discoveries,  is  differently  translated  by  them.  "  The  thing 
"  as  I  said  it,"  says  the  Doctor, "  is  thus,  the  Pythagoreans 
"  enjoined  all  the  Greeks  that  entered  themselves  into  the 
"  society,  to  use  everi/  man  his  rnother  tongue ;  {(^wjy;  ^f^a-^cu 
"  r^  •axl^mci]  Ocellus  therefore  being  a  Dorian  of  Lucania 
*'  must  have  writ  in  the  Doric.  This  I  took  to  be  Jam- 
"  blicus  his  meaning.  But  Vizzanius  has  represented  it 
*'  thus,  that  they  enjoined  all  that  came  to  them  to  use 
"  the  mother  tongue  of  Crotona,  which  was  the  Doric. 
"  Whether  Vizzanius  or  I  have  hit  upon  the  true  mean- 
"  ing,  perhaps  all  competent  readers  tvillnotbe  of  a  mind.''* 
p.  384.  of  Dis.  Def.  To  this  the  Oxford  men  had  nothing  to 
reply,  though  in  the  future  editions  they  replied  to  many 
parts  of  the  D fence.  And  yet  I  will  venture  to  say  his 
very  Defence  was  his  conviction. 

Observe  the  diffidence  of  the  concluding  words  ;  so 
contrary  to  the  Doctor's  manner,  that  one  would  suspect 
he  was  convinced  Vizzanius  was  riffht.     The  truth  of  the 


matter  is  this  ;  the  Doctor  between  his  writing  the  Disser- 
tation on  Phalaris  and  this  Def.  had  looked  into  Jamblicus ; 
and  found  (as  you  will  find  if  you  look  into  him)  that  it 
admits  of  no  other  meaning.  Yet  I  will  venture  to  say 
the  words  of  Jamblicus  taken  separately,  just  as  they  are 
quoted  by  Vizzanius  without  the  context,  would  have  been 
translated  by  every  man  who  understood  the  Greek  idiom 
just  as  Dr.  Bentley  has  translated  them.  From  whence  I 
conclude  that  when  Dr.  Bentley  wrote  the  Dissertation  on 
Phalaris,  he  had  seen  the  words  of  Jamblicus  no  where  but 
in  Vizzanius,  consequently  the  charge  upon  him  was  just. 

I  remember  when  my  old  friend  Bishop  Hare  (who  idol- 
ized Bentley,  notwithstanding  his  Critique  on  Phsedrus,)  in- 
sinuated to  me  he  thought  I  was  too  hard  on  Bentley  in  the  2d 
B.  3d  Sect,  of  D.  L.  I  told  him  the  story  I  here  tell  you  and 
confessed  I  had  indeed  spared  him. — This  leads  me  to  say, 
that  the  persons  I  hinted  at  in  the  note,  who  had  extravagant- 
ly flattered  Dr.  Bentlej-,  were  Bishop  Hare  in  his  letter  of 
thanks,  &c.  and  Dr.  S.  Clarke  in  the  preface  to  his  Csesar. 
They  were  both  afraid  of  him.  Before  I  leave  this  subject,  I 
will  just  tell  you  what  Mr.  Pope  told  me,  who  had  been  let  in- 
to the  secret,  concerning  the  Oxford  performance. — That 
Boyle  wrote  only  the  narrative  of  what  passed  between  him 
and  the  Bookseller,  which  too  was  corrected  for  him  ;  that 
Freind,the  Master  of  Westminster,  and  Atterbury  wrote 
the  body  of  the  criticisms  ;  and  that  Dr.  King  of  the  Com- 
mons wrote  the  droll  argument  to  prove  Dr.  Bentley  was 
not  the  author  of  the  Dissertation  on  Phalaris, and  the  Index. 
And  a  powerful  cabal  gave  it  a  surprising  run. — Your 
character  of  that  species  of  wit,  in  which  Bentley  excelled, 
is  just. 

With  regard  to  the  story  of  Abbot,  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
nothing  but  my  indignation  for  the  treatment  of  such  a 
man  as  Grotius  made  me  transcribe  from  the  writings  of 
a  man  now  altogether  forgotten.    I  told  this  story  to  Lord 


Chancellor ;  and  when  I  came  to  the  complaint  of  the  cruel 
treatment  of  the  Bishop  of  Ely  he  laughed  very  heartily. 

But  you  mention  a  more  serious  matter ;  in  which  your 
indignation  for  the  mean  treatment  of  your  friend,  from 
one  who  has  long  pretended  a  friendship  for  me,  deserves 
my  heartiest  thanks.  I  could  say  a  great  deal  to  you 
on  this  subject  if  you  was  here  with  me.  But  do  you 
Itnow  that  meanness  is  inseparable  from  false  greatness  ? 

You  have  touched  the  thing  with  the  greatest  truth  and 
nicety  where  you  say  you  think  him  not  so  happy  in  cleav'^ 
ing  up  certain  points  connected  with  the  Fall.  I  think  I 
shall  shew  it  in  the  last  volume  of  the  Divine  Legation, 
which  is  advancing,  though  slowly,  amidst  a  thousand  avo- 
cations, of  indolence,  amusement,  business,  &c. 

I  hope  very  shortly  to  send  you  the  six  first  sheets  of  my 
Pamphlet.  What  I  expect  of  j^our  friendship  is,  to  be 
very  severe  on  every  part  before  its  publication,  and  very 
Indulgent  to  it  after. 

Do  not  believe  I  shall  let  your  promise  slip  through 
concerning  the  Appendix.  For  I  must  interest  myself  in 
what  I  think  is  for  your  advantage  as  well  as  the  public, 
otherwise  I  should  have  offered  you  a  poor  thing  indeed 
when  I  offered  you  my  friendship. 

Prior-Park^  August  19th,  1749. 


LETTER  VL 

Prior-Park,  September  2mh,  1749. 

Dear  Sir, 

I  HAVE  the  pleasure  of  yours  of  the  12th.     What 

you  divine  of  the  new  edition  of  the  Paradise  Lost,  just 

now  upon  the  point  of  appearing,  may  perhaps  prove  too 

B 


10 

true.  1  agree  with  you,  the  editor  prejudiced  nobody 
in  his  favour  by  his  specimen.  He  was  all-advised  to^give 
such  a  one.  I  have  indeed,  as  you  say,  raised  a  spirit 
without  designing  it.  And  while  I  thought  I  was  only 
conjecturing^  it  seems  I  was  conjuring.  So  that  I  had 
no  sooner  evoked  the  name  of  Shakespear  from  the  rot- 
ten monument  of  his  former  editions,  than  a  crew  of 
strange  devils,  and  more  grotesque  than  any  of  those  he 
laughs  at  in  the  old  farces,  came  chattering,  mewing  and 
grinning  round  about  me. 

The  Oxford  man  you  mention,  who  writ  something 
about  Shakespear,  and  would  write  about  Johnson,  is  a 
pert  dunce,  the  most  troublesome  sort  of  vermin  in  all 
Parnassus. 

I  have  got  but  six  sheets  of  Julian  yet  from  under  the 
press.  These  I  have  ordered  to  be  sent  to  you.  The 
thing  grows  upon  me  too  much,  and  I  suspect  these  six 
will  make  but  a  fourth  part  of  the  whole.  M.  J.  Bas- 
nage  is  a  great  name,  and  deservedly  so.  I  was  obli- 
ged to  examine  his  objections  ;  they  are  pushed  home 
with  little  fear  and  less  wit,  in  the  sixth  Book  of  his 
History  of  the  Jews.  And  this  takes  up  a  good  deal 
of  room.  I  am  strongly  tempted  too  to  have  a  stroke 
at  Hume  in  parting.  He  is  the  author  of  a  little  book 
called  "  Philosophical  Essays,"  in  one  part  of  which  he 
argues  against  the  being  of  a  God,  and  in  another,  (very 
needlessly  you  will  say,)  against  the  possibility  of  mira- 
cles. He  has  crowned  the  liberty  of  the  press.  And 
vet  he  has  a  considerable  post  under  the  Government. 
I  have  a  great  mind  to  do  justice  on  his  arguments  against 
miracles,  which  I  think  might  be  done  in  few  words. 
But  does  he  deserve  notice  ?  Is  he  known  amongst  you  ? 
Pray  answer  me  these  questions.  For  if  his  own  weight 
keeps  him  down,  I  should  be  sorry  to  contribute  to  his 
advancement  to  any  place  but  the  pillory. 


11 

Your  true  taste  and  love  of  the  fine  arts  made  me  think 
the  two  inclosed  sheets  would  give  you  some  amusement. 
I  am  sure  Mr.  Pope's  Epistle  on  Taste  must  be  a  favour- 
ite of  yours. 


LETTER  VII. 

Bedford-Row^  October  2Bthy  1749. 
Dear  Sir, 
I  DEFERRED  making  my  acknowledgments  Tor  the 
favour  of  your  last  obliging  letter  till  I  came  to  town. 
I  am  now  got  hither  to  spend  the  month  of  November. 
The  dreadful  month  of  November !  when  the  little 
wretches  hang  and  drown  themselves,  and  the  great  ones 

sell  themselves  to  the  C and  the  Devil.     I  should  be 

glad  if  any  occasion  would  bring  you  hither,  that  I  might 
have  the  pleasure  of  waiting  on  you — I  don't  mean  to 
the  C  and  the  Devil,  but  in  Bedford-Row.  Not  that 
I  would   fright  you   from  that  earthly  Pandemonium,  a 

C ,  because   I   never  go   thither.     On  the   contrary  I 

wish  I  could  get  you  into  the  circle.  For  (with  regard 
to  you)  I  should  be  something  of  the  humour  of  honest 
Cornelius  Agrippa,  who  when  he  left  off  conjuring,  and 
wrote  of  the  vanity  of  the  art,  could  not  forbear  to  give 
receipts,  and  teach  young  novices,  the  way  to  raise  the 
Devil.  One  method  serves  for  both,  and  his  political 
representatives  are  rendered  tractable  by  the  very  same 
method,  namely,  fumigations.  But  these  high  mysteries 
you  are  unworthy  to  partake  of.  You  are  no  true  Son  oi 
Agrippa,  who  choose  to  waste  your  incense  in  raising 
the  meagre  spirit  of  friendship,  when  the  wisdom  of  the 
prince  of  this  world  would  have  inspired  you  with  more 
profitable  sentiments. 


12 

Let  me  hear,  at  least,  of  your  health  ;  and  believe 
that  no  absence  can  lessen  what  the  expressions  of  your 
good-will  have  made  me,  that  is  to  say,  very  much 
your  servant. 

I  have  now  put  that  volume  of  which  the  Epistle  to 
Augustus  is  part,  to  the  press  j  so  should  be  obliged  to 
you  to  send  it,  by  your  letter-carrier,  directed  to  Mr. 
Knapton,  bookseller,  in  Ludgate-Street.  But  you  must 
be  careful  7iot  to  pay  the  carriage,  because  that  will  en- 
danger a  miscarriage,  as  I  have  often  experienced. — 
I  intend  to  soften  the  conclusion  of  the  note  about  Gro- 
tius  and  the  Archbishop,  according  to  your  friendly  hint. 


L  ETTER  VIII. 

Mr,  HURD  to  Mr.  WARBURTON. 

Cambridge,  October  25th,  1749. 
Kev.  Sir, 

I  HAVE  read,  with  great  pleasure,  the  six  sheets  of 
your  discourse  on  Julian.  The  introduction,  which  re- 
spects Dr.  Middleton,  is  extremely  handsome.  I  agree 
with  you  he  ought  to  be  pleased  with  it.  That  he  will  be 
so,  there  may  be  reason  to  doubt.  I  suspect  your  candour 
hath  put  a  distinction,  which  the  learned  Inquirer  never 
thought  of.  However,  a  fair  occasion  is  offered  of  ex- 
plaining himself. 

For  the  discourse  itself,  you  have  established  the  fact 
with  uncommon  force  and  perspicuity.  The  characters  of 
Julian  and  Marcellinus  are  very  masterly.  And  the  evi- 
dence you  make  the  Apostate  bear  against  himself,  is  one 
of  those  happy  conjectures,  or  rather  discoveries,  peculiar 
to  your  genius. 


13 

The  only  thing,  that  sticks  with  me  at  all,  is  where  you 
shew,  from  the  7iature  and  en^ of  Judaism,  rliat  ihe  de- 
struction of  the  temple  must  needs  be  final.  Your  reason- 
ing, as  I  apprehend  it,  stands  thus.  The  Jewish  worship, 
as  being  the  shadoxu  or  figure  only  of  one  more  perfect, 
was,  of  necessity,  on  the  introduction  of  the  substance,  to 
be  done  away.  The  temple  was  essential  to  the  subsist- 
ence of  that  worship.  Therefore  the  temple  iisel  was  also 
utterly  2cad  finally  to  be  destroyed.  But  may  it  not  be  baid, 
that  all  which  follows  from  the  dependence  of  the  two 
dispensations,  is,  that  the  one  was  to  cease^  that  is,  to  be 
no  longer  of  Gbligation,  on  the  appearance  of  the  other? 
Was  any  thing  more  requisite  to  the  establishment  ol  the 
Christian  Institution,  than  that  the  Jewish  be  declared  null 
and  void  ?  Or,  was  the  honour  of  God's  providence  con- 
cerned to  defeat,  by  extraordinary  means,  and  overrule 
the  Jew's  perverseness  in  adhering  to  his  abrogated  ritual?- 
The  destruction  of  the  temple  might,  as  you  observe  from 
St.  Chrysostom,  be  a  means  of  xvithdrawing  the  Jeiv 
from  the  rage  of  ritual  observances.  But  was  it  essentially 
necessary,  on  account  of  the  dependence  betwixt  the  two 
religions,  to  the  subsistence  of  Christianity  ?  It  is  very 
likely,  I  may  misrepresent  or  misconceive  your  argument. 
But  you  will  perceive,  I  suspect  some  ambiguity  in  the 
term  done  away  in  the  major  proposition ;  and  that  my 
doubt  is,  whether  it  necessarily  means,  that  the  Jewish 
worship  was  to  be  removed,  i,  e.  the  observance  of  its 
ritual  to  be  absolutely  prevented,  and  rendered  impractica- 
ble— or  that  the  law  itself,  enjoining  such  worship,  was 
simply  to  be  abrogated,  or  repealed. 

I  interest  myself  the  more  in  the  success  of  this  argu- 
ment as  it  renders  the  miracle,  here  defended,  of  the  last 
importance  to  Christianity  ;  and  thereby  affords  an  illus- 
trious instance,  among  a  thousand  others,  of  the  mo- 
mentous use,  to  which  that  great  work  of  the  D.  L.  will 
be  found  to  serve. 


14 

On  the  whole,  I  can  rely  on  your  excuse  for  the  freedom 
I  have  here  taken  in  hizardlng  these  loose  thoughts. 
Whatever  else  they  may  fail  in,  they  will,  at  least,  be  a 
proof  of  the  entire  confidence  I  repose  in  your  friendship, 
when  I  take  a  route  of  so  little  ceremony  to  assure  you  of 
the  very  particular  esteem,  with  which  I  am,  always, 
Rev.  Sir, 

Your  most  obliged  and  most  faithful 
humble  servant, 

R.  KURD. 


^  LETTER  IX. 

I  HAVE  just  received  your  truly  friendly  letter  of  the 
2jth  sent  me  from  Bath.  Your  objection  to  my  argument, 
about  the  abolition  of  the  Temple  worship,  is  extremely 
accurate ;  and  the  least  that  it  shews  me  is  that  I  have  not 
been  sufficiently  clear.  I  will  state  it  over  again,  and  see 
if  I  can  make  any  thing  of  it :  or  rather  you  will  see  ;  for 
if  you   do  not,  I  am  sure  there  is  nothing  in  it. 

But  first  let  me  premise  that  the  necessity  of  God's  in- 
terfering to  prevent  the  rebuilding,  does  not  arise  from 
the  incofnpatibility  between  Judaism  and  Christianity  ;  but 
from  the  prophecies  of  the  destruction.  So  that  had  there 
been  no  incompatibiliti/^  yet  if  there  had  been]  a  prop/iect/, 
God's  honour  was  concerned.  You  will  say,  yes ;  if  that  pro- 
phecy was  of  a  final  destruction.  But  that  is  the  question. 
I  own  it :  and  to  determine  that  question  was  the  reason  I 
considered  the  incompatibility.  You  will  say  then,  though 
God's  interfering  does  not  depend  immediately  on  the  in- 
compatibility, but  on  the  prophecy,  yet  it  does  mediately. 
But  neither  would  I  allow  this.     For  I  think  I  could  prove 


15 

though  there  was  no  moral  necessitt/y  but  only  an  expedietv- 
cy  (which  you  will  allow)  for  the  abolition  of  the  Temple 
worship,  yet  if,  for  the  sake  of  that  expediency,  God  de- 
creed to  abolish  it,  and  prophesied  of  that  decree,  the  abo- 
lition must  be  understood  to  h&Jinal^  and  consequently  his 
veracity  would  be  concerned  to  hinder  the  rebuilding. 
But  as  I  have  contended  for  a  moral  necessity,  (by  which  I 
mean,  the  bringing  of  that  thing  to  pass  which  the  relation 
of  things,  in  God's  religious  dispensations,  i*equires,)  I 
shall  endeavour  to  shew  there  v/as  one. 

The  abolition  of  a  preparatory  Religion  on  the  introduc- 
tion of  that  which  it  prepared  the  way  for,  is  not  a  matter 
of  every  day's  experience.  There  is  but  one  instance  in 
the  world,  and  never  will  be  another.  Now  let  us  devest 
ourselves  of  all  the  common  notions  of  theology,  and  then 
consider  what  an  abolition  one  would  expect ; — an  actual  or 
virtual  only  ?  certainly  the  first.  But  generally  speaking; 
religion  is  of  such  a  nature  that  an  actual  could  not  be  had 
without  a  miraculous  force  upon  the  minds  of  men  ;  hence 
a  virtual  abolition  is  all  that,  in  common  cases,  one  could 
reasonably  expect.  But  if  this  abolished  Religion  should 
consist  of  two  essential  parts,  essentially  distinct ;  and 
that  one  of  these,  from  its  nature  and  circumstances,  might 
be  actually  abolished  without  any  such  force  on  the  will, 
should  we  not  then  expect  it  to  be  so  ?  Certainly  ;  because 
that  only  circumstance  which  shews  it  unreasonable  to  ex- 
pect an  actual  abolition,  is  away.  Now  Judaism  consisted 
of  two  essential  parts  ;  a  private^  and  a  public.  To  the 
public  belonged  a /oc«/w(?r.y/i7/?.  This  worship  might  be 
actually  abolished  without  any  such  force  upon  the  will. 
We  conclude  therefore  the  nature  of  things  requires  it 
should.  We  see  it  actually  abolished  ;  and  from  this,  and 
the  Prophecies,  we  are  supported  in  the  principle  of  a 
moral  necessity  for  it.  For  it  is  certain,  that  the  reason  of 
filings  and  the  Prophecies  support  each  other,  and  enable 


16 

each  of  them  to  bear  the  conclusion  we  draw  from  the 
other,  of  ^filial  destruction^  Nor  do  I  see  there  is  any 
thing  illogical  in  so  employing  them.  On  the  whole,  then, 
I  conclude,  that  a  virtual  abolition  of  circumcision,  puri- 
fication, abstinences  from  meats,  &c.  (which  belong  to  the 
private  part  of  the  Jewish  Religion)  is  all  that  could  reason- 
ably be  expected  ;  but  that  the  acfw«/ abolition  of  the  Temple 
'worship  (which  belongs  to  the  public  part)  seems  to  be 
required  from  the  nature  of  things. 

There  are  various  other  considerations  to  support  this 
conclusion — such  as  the  necessity  of  shewing  this  nation 
was  no  longer  God's  peculiar  ;  which  could  not  well  be 
done  while  they  were  in  possession  of  that  worship,  which 
was  the  characteristic  mark  of  their  being  his  peculiar — 
the  transferring  of  the  Kingship  of  the  Jews  from  God  to 
Christ.  But  the  temple  worship  was  the  specific  act  of 
allegiance,  &c.  There  are  many  other  considerations  of 
equal  weight.  But,  if  I  be  right,  I  have  said  enough  to 
you ;  if  wrong,  a  great  deal  too  much. 

Bedford-Row^  October  31.$Z,  1749. 


LETTER  X. 

Bedford-Roxv,  November  28th^  1749. 
AN  old  acquaintance  of  mine,  Mr.  Caryl,  of  Jesus, 
after  many  years  solicitation,  has  at  length  got  a  poor  pre- 
bend of  the  Duke  of  Newcastle.  As  this  vacates  his  Fel- 
lowship, he  imagines  it  will  vacate  his  Preachership  at 
Whitehall.  On  which  account  he  has  just  wrote  to  me 
to  use  my  interest  with  the  Bishop  of  London  for  the  con- 
tinuance of  it.  Though  I  ask  nothing  of  him  myself,  and, 
have  reason  to  be  dissatisfied  with  him,  I  cannot  refuse  a 
friend. — I  have  not  vet  seen  Mr.  Carvl.     But  I  hear  his 


17 

« 

continuance  in  the  preachership  is  impracticable,  and  con- 
trary to  the  institution.  If  so,  I  dare  say  he  is  too  rea- 
sonable a  man  to  desire  I  should  ask  an  absurd  thing. 

But  this  has  put  it  into  my  head  to  ask  you  whether  you 
be  a  Whitehall  preacher.  If  not,  whether  any  of  your 
College  be  ?  and  if  two  of  the  same  College  be  ever 
appointed?  If  you  have  it  not  already,  and  should  like 
it,  and  that  it  lies  open,  what  should  hinder  me  from  ask- 
ing this  for  you,  of  the  B.  L.  as  a  favour  done  to  my- 
self? It  is  a  great  question  whether  he  would  oblige  me  : 
but  I  should  like  to  try  him,  if  the  request  for  Caryl  can- 
not be  made,  as  I  suppose  it  cannot.  I  shall  urge  him 
and  if  he  denies  me,  it  will  be  no  great  matter  to  you,  and 
as  little  to  myself:  I  shall  have  only  one  subject  more  to 
fall  out  with  him  upon.*  I  am  just  on  the  point  of  leaving 
London  for  Prior-Park  where  a  letter  will  find  rae. 


LETTER  XL 

Prior-Parky  December  4th,  1749. 
BOTH  your  obliging  letters  are  now  before  me.  I  like 
your  Discourse  on  the  Temple,  in  that  of  28th  past,  so 
well,  that  if  you  choose  to  enlarge  it  into  the  form  of  a  Dis- 
sertation, I  will  print  it  at  the  end  of  my  book,  either 
anonymous,  or  with  your  name,  as  you  like.  If  not,  I  will, 
if  I  can  possibly  contrive  it,  try  to  get  in  the  substance 
somewhere.  But  this  is  not  so  eligible.  The  packet 
came  safe  to  Mr.  Knapton's.  Your  letter  of  the  SOili  I 
have  received  an  hour  or  two  ago. 

*  He  thought  the  Bishop,  who  professed  hhnself  to  be  his  friend,  should 
have  restrained  some  persons  of  known  dependence  upon  him,  from  writing' 
with  much  bitterness  against  the  D.  L.  Hence  the  dissatisfaction  expressed 
in  this  and  some  other  Letters.      //. 

C 


18 

I  thought  it  proper  to  lose  no  time,  and  have  wrote  by 
this  post  to  the  Bishop  of  London.  I  send  you  inclosed 
a  copy  of  the  Letter.  It  will  do  no  harm,  if  it  does  no 
good.  I  think  at  least  it  must  certainly  produce  your 
being  put  upon  his  list.  However,  if  his  knowing  you 
for  what  you  are,  produce  no  good  effect  to  you,  my  know- 
ing him  for  what  he  is,  will  produce  a  good  effect  to  me. 
Believe  me  to  be  what  you  have  made  me, 
Dear  Sir, 

Your  truly  affectionate  friend  and  servant, 

W.  WARBURTON. 


LETTER   XIL 

Mr,  WARBURTON  to  the  BISHOP  of  LONDON, 

My  Lord, 

PRESUMING  on  your  Lordship's  favour,  and  even 
friendship,  I  desire  to  prefer  one  of  the  two  following 
requests. 

Mr.  Caryl,  a  Fellow  of  Jesus,  whom  I  have  long  in- 
timately known,  and  for  whose  excellent  character  I  can  an- 
swer, has  lately  got  of  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  a  small 
prebend  of  Southwell,  in  Nottinghamshire,  which  vacates 
his  Fellowship.  He  has  been  some  time  a  preacher  at 
Whitehall ;  and  if  it  be  not  contrary  to  the  practice  or  to 
the  institution,  the  mediocrity  of  his  circumstances  in 
a  married  life,  (for  I  need  not  tell  your  Lordship,  old 
residents  in  College  rarely  quit  their  Fellowships  but  for 
a  wife,  and  oftentimes  quit  them  on  small  temptations 
besides,)  this,  my  Lord,  makes  him  very  desirous,  as  he 
shall  live  in  the  University,  to  continue  his  preachership  ; 
and  his  character  is  such,  that  what  he  wishes,  his  friends 
cannot  but  be  solicitous  to  help  him  to  obtain.  But  neither 


19 

he  nor  they  would  ask  for  any  thing  so  improper  as  the  going 
against  uniform  practice  and  institution.  If  this  should 
unfortunately  be  the  case,  then,  my  Lord,  give -me  leave  to 
bespeak  your  favour  for  another  friend  :  so  willing  I  am 
to  be  obliged  to  your  Lordship. 

It  is  for  Mr.  R.  Hurd,  Fellow  of  Emanuel  College,  of 
Vr'hich  there  is,  at  this  present,  no  Whitehall  preacher. 
I  do  myself  the  honour  to  call  him  my  intimate  friend,  for 
he  is  one  of  the  best  scholars  in  the  kingdom,  and  of  parts 
and  genius  equal  to  his  learning,  and  a  moral  character 
that  adorns  both.  These,  I  know,  are  the  best  recom- 
mendations to  your  Lordship.  Nor  has  your  Lordship 
suffered  me  to  think  so  meanly  of  myself  as  not  to  believe 
that  what  I  so  much  interest  myself  in  (as  in  the  service 
of  my  friends)  will  have  some  weight  with  your  Lord- 
ship. 

I  am,  &c.  W.  W, 


LETTER  XIII. 

Prior-Parky  December  IIM,  1749. 

MR.  Caryl's  holding  the  preachership  is  judged  incon- 
sistent with  the  quitting  his  Fellowship.  But  he  has  his 
grace  in  it  till  May  next. 

I  believe  I  may  congratulate  you  on  the  certainty  of 
your  succeeding  him  at  that  time.  At  least  I  understand 
the  inclosed  to  signify  thus  much. — It  is  time  you  should 
think  of  being  a  little  more  known  :  and  it  will  not  be  the 
least  thing  acceptable  in  this  affair,  that  it  will  bring  you 
into  the  acquaintance  of  this  Bishop,  who  stands  so  su- 
pereminent  in  the  learned  and  political  world.  I  can 
overlook  a  great  deal  for  such  a  testimony,  so  willing  to 
be  paid  to  merit ;  believe  me  I  shall  always  have  a  parti- 
cular pleasure  in  seeing  it  have  its  due. 


20 

But  to  turn  to  a  subject  we  both  like  better,  tell  me 
sincerely  your  opinion  of  the  new  edition  of  Milton! 
not  as  a  bookseller  or  petit  maitre,  about  the  print  and 
the  pictures ;  but  as  a  critic,  about  the  deep  erudition  of  its 

variorums. 


LETTER  XIV. 

The  BISHOP  of  LONDON  to  Mr,  WARBURTOK. 

Tanple,  Dec,  10th,  1749. 
Sir, 
I  HAD  the  favour  of  yours,  and  say  very  truly,  that 
it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  shew  the  regard  I  have  long 
had  for  you. 

Mr.  Caryl  has  been  with  me,  and  I  told  him  that  when 
his  Fellowship  becomes  void,  the  qualification  for  a 
Whitehall  preacher  will  be  gone  ;  but  his  turn  being  in  May 
next,  I  apprehend  he  means  to  continue  Fellow  so  long, 
and  to  preach  his  next  turn.  When  the  vacancy  happens, 
I  shall  not  be  unmindful  of  your  recommendation. 

I  am  told  we  are  to  expect  soon  something  from  your 
hand  in  vindication  of  the  miraculous  prevention  of  Julian's 
attempt  to  rebuild  Jerusalem.  I  have  a  pleasure  in  see- 
ing any  thing  of  yours  ;  and  I  dare  promise  myself  to  see 
the  argument  you  have  undertaken,  set  in  a  true  and  clear 
light. — I  am, 

Sir, 

Your  very  obedient  humble  servant, 

THOMAS   LONDON. 


^1 


LETTER  XV. 

Prior-Park,  December  2od,  1749, 

I  HAVE  the  favour  of  two  of  yours  to  acknowledge. 
I  make  not  the  least  doubt  of  the  Bishop's  keeping  his 
promise  to  us. 

I  have  just  read  the  most  silly  and  knavish  book  I  ever 
saw  ;  one  Lauder  on  Milton's  Imitations.  An  observation 
at  the  bottom  of  44  and  the  top  of  45  proVes  him  either  the 
©ne  or  the  other  with  a  vengeance.  If  there  are  those 
things  in  Masenius,  why  did  he  not  produce  them?  The}*- 
are  of  more  weight  to  prove  his  charge  than  all  he  says 
besides.  If  they  are  not,  he  is  a  knave. — I  think  he  has 
produced  about  half  a  dozen  particular  thoughts  that  look 
like  imitations. — But  the  matter  of  imitation  is  a  thing  ven/ 
little  understood.  However,  in  one  view  the  book  does 
not  displease  me.  It  is  likely  enough  to  mortify  all  thr 
silly  adorers  of  Milton,  who  deserve  to  be  laughed  at. 

Poor  Job !  It  was  his  eternal  fate  to  be  persecuted  by 
his  friends.  His  three  comforters  passed  sentence  of  con- 
demnation upon  him,  and  he  has  been  executing  z7i  effigie 
ever  since.  He  was  first  bound  to  the  stake  by  a  long; 
catena  of  greek  Fathers  ;  then  tortured  by  Pineda ;  then 
strangled  by  Caryl,  and  afterwards  cut  up  by  Wesley,  and 
anatomized  by  Garnet.  Pray  don't  reckon  me  amongst  his 
hangmen.  I  only  acted  the  tender  part  of  his  wife,  and 
Vt'as  for  making  short  work  with  him.  But  he  v/as  ordained, 
I  think,  by  a  fate  like  that  of  Prometheus,  to  lie  still  upon 
his  dunghill  and  have  his  brains  sucked  out  by  owls.  One 
Hodges,  a  heacj  of  Oxford,  now  threatens  us  with  a  nevr 
Auto  defe. 

I  have  been  revising  my  notes  on  the  Essay  on  Criti- 
cism, (I  mean  for  the  general  edition — that  little  thing  yoij 


22 

see  advertised  I  have  never  seen  nor  know  any  thing  of,) 
and  have  corrected  what  I  said,  in  conformity  to  the  no- 
tions of  Mr.  Addison  and  other  critics,  about  the  Ars 
Poetica.  For  which  better  notion  of  the  work  I  and  the 
public  are  indebted  to  the  English  Commentator  upon  it. 
I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XVI. 

Prior-Park^  January  ISth,  1749-50. 

I  HAD  the  pleasure  of  yours  of  the  2d  Jan.  and  should 
have  acknowledged  it  before  ;  but  that  my  time  was  taken 
up  by  several  accidents,  amongst  the  rest  by  a  visit  which 
Mr.  C.  Yorke  was  so  kind  to  make  me  at  this  place.  He 
came  down  from  London  to  spend  the  Christmas  with  me. 

The  first  news  I  had  of  Dr.  M 's  attack  on  the  Bishop 

of  London,  I  had  from  Mr.  Yorke.  The  public  papers  now 
speak  of  it.  I  was  not  surprised  at  it,  for  he  was  full  of  com- 
plaints of  the  two  brothers*  when  I  saw  him  in  town  last 
summer.  The  Bishop,  I  believe,  will  have  more  defend- 
ers than  he  will  care  for;  more,  I  dare  say, than  will  do 
him  honour.  I  am  told  he  considers  the  book  in  the  view  of 
an  answer  to  Collins's  Grounds  and  Reasons.  He  will  cer- 
tainly have  his  advantages  of  it  in  that  view.  But  I  ques- 
tion whether  it  is  a  fair  one.  I  only  consider  the  Bishop's 
book  of  Prophecy  as  occasioned  hy  Collins's  book,  not  as  an 
answer  to  it.  Under  this  last  consideration  he  has  cer- 
tainly left  Collins  in  possession  of  his  argument.  So 
has  every  body  else  who  wrote  against  him.  Which 
was  the  reason  I  have  employed  a  section  against  his 
book,  and  pretend  to  have  overthrown  his  fundamental 
principles.     But  of  all  visionary  projects,  the  pretending 

*   Bishops  Sherlock  and  Gooch. 


23 

to  settle  a  point,  to  end  the  disputes  about  it,  is  the  most 
foolish.  One  half  of  your  readers  cannot  see  it ;  and  the 
other  half  will  not  acknowledge  it.  So  the  old  Mumpsimus 
keeps  on  its  way.  You  see  an  instance  of  this  (about  the 
rise,  progress,  and  nature  of  ancient  idolatry)  in  Black- 
well's  Letters  on  Mythology. 

I  am  much  pleased  with  your  beginning  to  grow  in 
earnest  with  the  Epistle  to  Augustus,  Nothing  can  be 
more  useful  than  the  note  you  propose  about  imitation  in 
xvorks  of  genius.  The  thing  is  not  at  all  understood. 
And  no  wonder  ;  it  is  deep,  and  is  reserved  for  you. 
By  mere  accident  I  have  nothing  about  it  in  my  notes 
on  Pope.  I  a  little  wonder  at  it,  now  you  make  me 
reflect  on  it ;  but  am  not  a  little  ple»ed  that  it  is  for  you. 
Menage,  as  I  remember,  (for  it  is  man'jf  years  ago  since 
I  read  it,)  has,  in  the  preface  to  his  edition  of  Malherbe's 
poems,  some  things  on  pretended  imitation  not  ill  observed  ; 
but  he  only  skims  the  matter :  however,  you  would  not  be  . 
displeased  to  see  what  he  says. 

Though  there  is  little  need,  yet  I  shall   look  over  your^ 
notes,  for  the  purpose  you  recommend,  with  much  pleasure. 
For  I  am  resolved  you  'shall  not  have  my  neglect  of  that « 
as  an  excuse,  for  not  malcing  the  critical  part  of  Horace 
complete. 


LETTER  XVII. 

Bedford-Row^  January  ZOth,  1749- 50. 

YOUR  last  favour  of  the  23d  instant  was  sent  me  hither 
from  Prior-Park,  which  I  left  about  ten  days  ago,  and 
whither  I  propose  to  return  in  about  a  fortnight. 

We  agree  entirely  in  our  sentiments  about  the  ^'a'O';;? e- 
nation.  I  think  it  the  weakest  as  well  as  warmest  pam- 
phlet the  Doctor  ever  wrote.     But  I  agree  with  you  there 


24 

is  no  harm  done.     It  may  be  of  use  to  make  people  un- 
derstand themselves. 

I  disagree  with  the  Doctor  in  his  two  general  ques- 
tions. The  first  is,  that  there  is  no  System  of  Propheci/y 
but  only  particular,  detached,  unrelated  Prophecies^ 
His  reason  is,  that  Christ  and  his  Apostles  refer  only  to 
such.  By  the  same  kind  of  reasoning  I  could  prove  there  is 
no  System  of  Morals,  because  Christ  and  his  Apostles  re- 
commend and  enforce  only  particular  detached  virtues  occa- 
sionally. But  is  not  the  reason  of  this  evident  enough  t" 
They  had  to  do  with  the  common  people,  who  cannot 
comprehend  or  attend  to  a  long  deduction  or  chain  of 
things.  They  can  only  see  simple  truths,  and  it  is  well 
they  can  see  them.  #Take  a  plain  man  with  an  honest 
heart,   give  him  nis  bible,  and   make  him   conversant  m 


1  it ;  and  I  will  engage  for  him  he  will  never  be  at  a  loss 
ito  know  how  to   act,  agreeably  to  his  duty,  in  every  cir- 
1  cumstance   of  life.     Yet  give  this   man  a  good  English 
'  translation  of  Aristotle's  Ethicks  ;  (one  of  the  most  com- 
'  ,plete  works  for  method  in  its  kind ;)  and  by  that  time  he 
'has  got  to  the  end  of  it,   I  dare  say  he  will  not  understand 
one  word  he  has  been^eading.  J  But  is  the  explanation 
of  the  Economy  of  Grace,  m  which  is  contained  the  Sys- 
tem of  Prophecy,  that  is,  the  connexion   and  dependance 
of  the  prophecies  of  the  several  ages  of  the   Church  of 
God,  therefore  of  no  use  ?   Surely  of  the  greatest.     And 
I  am  confident  nothing  but  the  light  which  will  arise  from 
thence  can  support  Christianity  under  its  present  circum- 
stances.— But  the  contending  for  single  prophecies  only, 
and  by  a  man  who  thinks  they  relate  to  Christ  in  a  secon- 
dary sense  only,  and  who  appears  to  have  no  high  opinion 
of  second  senses,  looks  very  suspicious.  ^  What  would 
f  onethlnk  of  an  advocate  at  the  Bar,   who  when  the  con- 
/  trary  party  had  made  out  his  point  by  a  number  of  various 
\  pircumatances  that  supported  and  threw  light  upon  one  anov. 


Q5 

ther,  should  reply,  and  say,  "  You  are  a  maker  of  fanciful  "^ 
"  hypotheses  j  you  have  brought  all  these  various  unrelated  ) 
**  circumstances  into  a  body  or  a  system  ;  but  you  should  S 
*'  consider  them  as  separate  and  distinct,  for  so  they  were  I 
"  delivered  in  at  the  bar  by  the  witnesses  -"^.^^ ^ 

If  the  Doctor  ever  considers  these  prophecies,  as  he 
seems  to  promise  he  will,  I  perhaps  shall  have  something 
to  say  to  him. 

The  other  point  is  the  Fail,  It  is  managed  just  in  the 
manner  you  say — He  will  have  it  to  be  an  allegory.  I 
agree  it  is  so.  In  this  we  differ  : — He  supposes  it  to  be 
an  allegory  of  a  moral  truth,  namely,  that  man  soon  cor- 
rupted his  ways  ;  and  seems  to  think,  by  his  way  of 
speaking,  that  an  allegory  can  convey  no  other  kind  of 
information.  I  say  it  is  an  allegory  of  a  ?aora/yoc^,  name- 
ly, that  man  had  transgressed  that  positive  command 
(whatever  it  was)  on  the  observance  of  which  the  free 
gift  of  immortality  was  conditionally  given.  In  this  inter- 
pretation Christianity  has  something  to  bottom  itself  upon: 
on  the  Doctor's  notion  it  is  a  mere  castle  in  the  air. 
But  I  do  not  pretend  you  should  understand  what  I  mean, 
till  you  see  it  developed  in  my  discourse  of  the  nature  of 
Christianity,  which  makes  the  IXth  Book  of  the  Divine 
Legation. — But  on  this  point  the  Doctor's  and  the 
Bishop's  notions  are  not  very  different,  though  contro- 
versy has  kept  them  at   a  distance. 

Browne,  of  Carlisle,  in  a  letter  to  me,  has  these  words 

— "  I   read  his   [yours]  Comment  with  pleasure,  and   his 

"  notes  with  admiration.     If  I  had  not  known  the  con- 

"  trary  beforehand,  I  should  have  held  the  man  in  great 

"  contempt  that  had  not  determined  them  to  be  yours  at 

"  first  reading.     Whenever  you  see  him,  pray  tell  him 

"  the  litde   man    he  saw   at  Mr.   Balguy's  desires  to   he 

'*  remembered  by  him." 

D 


26 

Mr.  Browne  has  fine  parts  :  he  has  a  genius  for  poetry, 
and  has  acquired  a  force  of  versification  very  uncommon. 
Poor  IMr.  Pope  had  a  little  before  his  death  planned  out  an 
epic  poem,  Avhich  he  began  to  be  very  intent  upon.  The 
subject  was  Brute.  I  gave  this  plan  to  Mr.  Browne. 
He  has  wrote  the  first  book,  and  in  a  surprising  way, 
though  an  unfinished  essay.  I  told  him  this  was  to  be  the 
work  of  years,  and  mature  age,  if  ever  it  was  done  : 
that  in  the  mean  time,  he  should  think  of  something  in 
])rose  that  might  be  useful  to  his  character  in  his  own  pro- 
fession. I- recommended  to  him  a  thing  I  once  thought  of 
myself.  It  had  been  recommended  to  me  by  Mr.  Pope. 
An  examination  of  all  Lord  Shaftesbury  says  against 
Religion.  Mr.  Pope  told  me,  that  to  his  knowledge, 
the  Characterlstlcks  had  done  more  harm  to  Revealed 
Religion  in  England  than  all  the  works  of  Infidelity  put 
together.  Mr.  Browne  now  is  busy  upon  this  work. 
Apropos^  I  heard  very  lately  that  my  friend  was  the  au- 
thor of  that  fine  little  pamphlet  that  has  so  irretrievably 
spoiled  the  credit  and  the  sale  of  that  vain  simple  book  of 
Weston's.  But  remember,  if  this  be  a  secret,  I  do  not 
ask  for  it. 

We  have  had  Mr.  Polntz  at  Bath  this  season  for  his 
health ;  as  our  two  families  have  a  great  intimacy,  we 
had  the  pleasure  of  his  company  frequently  at  Prior-Park. 
He  had  been  reading  your  book,  and  was  agreeably  sur- 
prised with  so  masterly  a  performance.  He  asked  me 
if  I  knew  the  author,  whom  he  supposed  might  be  a 
Scotsman,  from  his  fondness  for  Hutcheson.  I  told  him 
it  was  one  of  his  own  University,  which  gave  him  an  ad- 
ditional pleasure. 

Pray  if  that  letter  be  still  in  being  in  which  I  gave  you 
my  thoughts  about  what  may  be  collected  from  the  prophe- 
cies or  the  genius  of  the  two  Religions  concerning  the  final 
destruction  of  the  Temple,  in  answer  to  your  doubts,  be 


2: 

so  good  to  look  it  over ;  and  if  you  thiak  there  be  any 
thing  explanatory  or  corroborative  of  what  I  say  in  the 
beginning  of  my  book,  be  so  good  to  transcribe  those 
passages  for  me — if  I  have  not  quite  tired  you  out  with 
the  length  of  this= 


LETTER  XVIII. 

Bedford-Row,  Fehmarij  lOt/i,  1749-50. 
I  DO  not  greatly  wonder  at  the  groundless  report  you 
hint  at.  I  believe  such  a  thing  at  this  time  would  not  be  an 
unacceptable  service.  But  nothing  but  the  obligations  of 
gratitude  could  engage  me  in  such  a  thing,  or  the  stronger 
obligations  of  what  one  owes  to  a  true  friend.  Neither 
of  these  coming  into  the  question,  you  may  be  sure  I  will 
never  so  much  as  hint  at  the  quarrel.  I  have  unavoidably 
been  much  with  the  Bishop  of  late,  and  he  has  been  with 
me  at  this  house  ;  and  this  perhaps  may  occasion  the  report. 
I  dined  with  him  to-day,  and  he  told  me  a  Clergyman  had 
been  with  him  to  shew  him  an  answer  he  had  wrote 
against  M.  and  desired  he  would  peruse  it  ;  he  desired  to 
be  excused.  The  other  then  asked  him  whether  he  forbid 
him  to  meddle.  The  Bishop  replied  no,  he  might  do  as 
he  pleased — I  took  an  opportunity  to  tell  him  he  would 
have  defenders  in  abundance  ;  and  said,  my  bookseller  had 
just  then  told  me  of  one,  who  had  desired  him  to  advertise 
an  answer  printing  or  printed  in  the  North,  against  M.— 
My  reason  of  mentioning  this  was,  to  speak  to  him  advan- 
tageously of  the  author,  not  forgetting  one  circumstance 
(as  I  knew  it  would  be  to  the  Bishop)  of  recommendation, 
that  it  was  the  grandson  of  Dean  Comber.  Inter  nos,  this  is 
a  promising  young  man,  but  indiscreet,  and  a  great  deal  too 
forward.  He  wrote  to  me  on  occasion  of  a  little  pamphlet 
against  M.  about  imitation  in   Popi'ih  corruptions  j    ad 


28 

desired  I  would  read  his  pamphlet.  I  declined  it,  just  as 
the  Bishop  did  in  his  case.  He  printed  it,  and  then  I  read 
it.  I  thought  myself  obliged  to  him  lor  his  good-will.  I 
saw  marks  of  genius  and  sense  in  it,  with  too  many  pue- 
rilities. I  was  so  free  with  him  to  give  him  good  advice* 
I  told  him  I  thought  he  would  prove  able  to  do  consider- 
able service  in  his  profession,  if  by  a  course  of  study  he 
would  give  time  to  his  genius  to  develope  itself,  and  his  judg- 
ment to  mature.  I  believe  he  has  been  writing  every  day 
since — I  siiould  not  forget  to  tell  you,  that  the  first  time 
I  saw  the  Bishop  of  London  after  I  came  to  town,  he 
assured  me  before  the  Bishop  of  Linclon,  you  should  have 
the  preachership  when  Caryl  had  preached  his  next  course. 
I  wish  it  had  been  any  thing  of  solid  advantage.  How- 
ever you  will  get  just  as  much  by  it  as  I  do  by  mine,  who 
pay  more  for  the  rent  of  my  house  yearly,  than  I  receive 
from  Linclon's  Inn.  I  shall  reprint  the  first  leaf  of  Julian, 
and  shall  leave  out  the  introduction  and  put  in  another,  in 
which  there  will  not  be  one  word  of  Dr.  M.  If  I  was 
not  to  tell  you  the  reason,  you  would  suspect  it  was  done 
out  of  regard  to  B.  L.  But  indeed  it  is  no  such  matter. 
A  particular  friend  of  mine,  of  high  station,  no  church- 
man, and  greatly  partial  in  favour  of  Dr.  M.  and  his 
writings,  but  who  loves  me,  and  is  very  regardful  of  my 
interest,  told  me  some  parts  of  it  would  oft'end  the  Clergy, 
and  others  looked  like  an  unwillingness  to  enter  the  list 
with  the  Doctor ;  so  that  he  thought,  my  interest,  and 
what  he  equally  regards,  my  honour,  might  suffer  by  it. 
He  has  a  higher  opinion  of  me  than  I  deserve,  and  he 
thinks  I  should  not  enough  consult  what  he  calls  my  own 
dignity  in  such  an  introduction.  As  he  was  earnest  with 
me  in  this  matter,  I  have  complied  with  him.  Pray  give 
me  your  thoughts. 

All  you  say  of  Mr.  Browne's  poetical  scheme  is  exact- 
ly true :  and,  to  speak  in  the  classical  language,  it  must 


29 

be  committed  to  the  Gods.     Time  will  shew  whether  they 
will  mature  it. 

It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  understand  you  were  the 
author  of  that  fine  Pamphlet  which  has  now  made  that 
egregious  coxcomb's  foolish  book  no  more  spoken  of.  It 
shall  remain  a  secret  with  me.  But  it  was  spoken  of  pub- 
licly at  Bath  (and  I  believe  v/ith  a  design  that  I  should 
know  it,)  by  a  gentleman  of  St.  John's,  who  was  in  some 
nobleman's  famly  there,  I  believe  it  might  be  the  last 
Duke  of  Somerset's ;  he  that  died  the  other  day. 

All  that  I  referred  to  in  Menage  was  his  note  on  that 
line  of  Malherbe  D^arbitres  de  la  paix\  de  foudres  de  la 
guerre:  in  which  that  discourse  you  speak  of  is  mentioned, 
but  whether  ever  he  wrote  any  such  I  know  not.  I  wanted 
to  know  the  character  of  Hutcheson  from  so  good  a  judge. 
You  speak  so  advantageously  of  him,  that  in  your  next  I 
beg  you  will  give  me  a  list  of  his  best  books,  which  I  will 
get. 

I  have  a  thousand  things,  dear  Sir,  to  pour  out  myself 
upon  to  you  and  yet  my  paper  warns  me  to  leave  off.  But 
I  cannot  omit  recommending  to  you  the  late  Lord  Presi- 
dent Forbes's  little  posthumous  work  on  incredulity.  It  is 
a  little  jewel.  I  knew  and  venerated  the  man  ;  one  of  the 
greatest  that  ever  Scotland  bred,  both  as  a  Judge,  a  Patriot 
and  a  Christian.     I  am. 

Dear  Sir, 

Ever,   &c. 

.P.  S.  There  is  a  little  edition  of  the  Dunciad  published  for 
the  market.  I  did  not  think  it  worth  sending  to  you, 
because  there  is  a  better  in  reserve,  which  I  intended 
for  you.  In  this  there  is  a  new  Dunce  or  two  who 
came  in  my  way.  But  I  shall  have  one  general  reck- 
oning with  them,  (which  1  hope  you  will  not  think 
unsuitable  to  my  character,)  and  then  adieu  with  the 
Dunces  for  ever. 


so 


LETTER  XIX. 

I  AM  to  thank  you  for  your  last  favour,  and  to  tell  you 
how  much  I  am  pleased  that  you  agree  with  the  expediency 
of  my  alteration. — I  am  got  to  the  concluding  part  of  my 
work,  the  answer  to  the  capital  objection,  that  it  ivas  a 
natural  event.  You  will  think  it  is  a  very  silly  one,  but  the 
Mathematicians  rest  all  upon  it.  This  tribe  of  men,  I  do 
not  mean  the  inventors  and  geniuses  among  them,  whom 
I  honour,  but  the  demonstrators  of  others'  inventions 
who  are  ten  times  duller  and  prouder  than  a  damn'd 
Poet,  have  a  strange  aversion  to  every  thing  that  smacks 
of  Religion.  I  speak  my  thoughts  of  them  in  a  manner 
you  will  not  disapprove  in  my  Introduction^  which  you  have 
not  seen,  which  is  an  apology  for  the  Fathers. — If  my  con- 
clusion be  retarded  by  my  unconquerable  laziness  longer 
than  I  at  present  foresee,  I  shall  have  time  to  send  you 
this  said  Introduction. 

You  ask  about  the  Prebendary  of  Rochester.  Browne 
(the  Pi pe-of- Tobacco  Browne)  wrote  a  lampoon  on  Lord 
Grenville,  called  "  The  Fire-side."  To  add  the  more 
poignancy  to  his  satire,  he,  in  the  wantonness  of  his  spleen, 
conceived  a  design  that  Upton  should  write  notes  upon  it. 
He  knew  him  to  be  dull  enough  not  to  see  the  drift  of  the 
lampoon,  and  vain  enough  to  think  himself  honoured  by 
the  request;  so  he  got  him  to  his  chambers,  and  persuaded 
him  to  write  what  indeed  he  himself  in  part  dictated  to  him. 
In  this  condition  the  lampoon  was  printed,  and  then  Browne 
told  all  his  acquaintance  the  joke.  I  had  it  not  from  him- 
self, and  therefore  was  at  liberty  to  speak  of  it.  But  was  it 
not  a  charity  to  caution  him  against  a  commerce  with  this 
species  of  wits,  whose  characteristic  is  what  Mr.  Pope  gives 
them,  of 

"  A  brain  of  feathers,  and  a  heart  of  lead !" 


31 

Upton's  offence  was  well  known,  but  it  is  not  always  so. 
For  one  does  not  care  to  trouble  the  public  with  particulari- 
ties, nor  perpetuate  the  memory  of  impertinent  and  forgot- 
ten abuse  ;  hence  you  gain  the  character,  amongst  those 
who  neither  know  you,  nor  your  provocations,  of  being 
unjustly  censorious  and  satirical.  I  will  give  you  an  in- 
stance of  what  I  said  first,  in  the  case  of  Burton^  whom  you 
will  find  in  the  Dunciad.*  This  man,  two  or  three  years 
ago,  came  with  his  wife  and  family  to  Bath.  They  brought 
with  them  a  letter  of  recommendation  to  Mr.  Allen's  notice, 
who  received  them  here  several  times  with  distinguished 
civilities.  And!  the  first  thing  the  puppy  did  afterwards 
was  to  abuse  the  man,  who  received  him  so  hospitably, 
with  a  saucy  stupid  joke.  Hayter,  you  know  whom  I 
mean,  I  owe  him  the  ceremony  of  no  other  title,  got  a 
Ijriend  to  excuse  him  to  me,  as  meaning  no  ill,  but  the 
mereeffect  of  dullness,  which  mistook  it  for  a  compliment. 
I  thought  this  did  not  excuse  him  being  laughed  at.  And 
I  did  no  more.  His  intercessor  had  been  a  witness  of  the 
civilities  he  had  received. 

But  as  to  the  Dunces,  I  have  one  general  appeal  against 
them  to  the  public  at  the  end  of  my  preface  to  IMr.  Pope's 
works,  and  then  adieu  to  them  for  ever. 

My  house-maid  has  just  wrote  me  news  of  a  considerable 
damage  done  me  at  my  house  in  town.  Some  rogues 
have  stolen  a  ton  of  lead  off  my  coach-house  and  stables. 
Pray  let  me  put  a  case  of  conscience  to  you.  Can  I,  in 
classical  justice,  charge  this  theft  upon  the  Dunces?  If  they 
have  done  it,  it  is  infinitely  a  greater  damage  than  they  ever 
did  me  before,  or  are  likely  to  do  again. 

You  have  the  art  of  making  the  favours  you  do  me  to 
pass  for  obligations  done  to  yourself.     I  shall  not  forge': 

*  In  a  small  edition,  1750.  Ke  was,  at  the  intercession  of  Dr.  Hayter, 
Bishop  or  Norwich,  left  out  in  the  general  edition  of  all  Mr.  Pope's  workr> 
in  1751.11. 


32 

to  speak  to  the  Bishop,  as  you  desire  ;  and  hope  he  won^t 
do  his  civilities  by  halves.  How  goes  on  the  Epistle  to 
Augustus  i 

Prior-Pai%  February  24th,  1749-50, 


LETTER  XX. 

THE  finishing  stroke  to  Julian  has  kept  me  till  now 
from  discharging  my  debt  for  the  favour  of  your  last. 

Your  plan  for  the  discourse  on  imitation,  I  tell  you 
without  compliment,  is  admirable.  And  I  long  to  see  you 
fill  up  the  canvass.  Don't  let  me  languish  in  expectation. 
In  the  Edition  of  Mr.  Pope's  works  I  have  borrowed 
from  you,  and  spoke  my  sentiments  of  your  comment. 
But  of  this  piece  (was  it  composed)  I  should  have  much 
more  use.  But  it  will  stand  me  in  stead  in  his  life,  which 
I  shall  not  publish  with  the  first  edition  of  his  works. 

Rejoice  with  me  that  I  have  done  with  Julian,  and  am 
returned  to  my  old  indolence,  which  state  I  will  keep  as 
long  as  I  can.  But  now  the  third  volume  of  the  D.  L. 
begins  to  look  me  in  the  face,  and  I  have  promised,  you 
will  find,  a  second  volume  of  Julian.  But  I  make  my 
promises  like  a  young  courtier ;  and  keep  my  countenance 
when  I  break  them,  like  an  old  one.  The  B.  L.  has  sent  me 
his  Pastoral  Charge.  It  is  a  very  primitive  discourse,  and 
what  is  more,  a  very  good  one.  The  second  earthquake 
has  much  frightened  that  colluvies  of  filth,  the  court  and  city» 
Pray  God  it  may  reform  them.  But  we  seem  a  people 
devoted  to  destruction. 

Have  you  seen  Lord  Halifax's  book  of  Maxims.  He 
was  the  ablest  man  of  business  in  his  time.  You  will  not 
find  the  depth  of  Rochefoucault's,  nor  his  malignity.  Li- 
cense enough,  as  to  Religion.     They  are  many  of  them 


33 

very  solid,  and  I  persuade  myself  were  made  occasionally.) 
as  the  affairs  of  those  times  occurred,  .while  he  was  in  busi- 
ness. And  we  lose  half  their  worth  by  not  knowing  the 
occasions.  Several  of  them  are  the  commonest  thoughts, 
or  most  obvious  truths,  prettily  turned  :  some,  still  lower, 
pay  us  with  the  jingling  of  sound  for  sense. 

Bishop,  Berkeley,  of  Ireland,  has  published  a  thing  of  a 
very  different  sort,  but  much  in  the  same  form,  which  he 
calls  Queries,  very  well  worth  attending  to  by  the  Irish  na- 
tion. He  is  indeed  a  great  man,  and  the  only  visionary  X 
ever  knev/  that  was.  I  suppose  this  shallow  dirty  Brooke* 
you  have  been  dabbling  in,  may  fancy  me  to  be  the  author  of 
a  foolish  pamphlet  writ  against  him.  I  know  some  of  Dr. 
M.'s  friends  suspected  me  to  be  the  author.  I  have  heard 
it  was  the  Lay-Dodwell's.  If  this  be  Brooke's  ground  of 
abuse,  he  does  me  much  less  honour  than  Weston  did. 

Pray  once  more  let  me  know  that  you  are  in  earnest 
with  your  plan,  and  believe  me  to  be,  &c. 

F.  S.  Pray  did  you  feel  either  of  these  earthquakes  ?  They 
have  made  Whiston  ten  times  madder  than  ever.  Pie 
went  to  an  alehouse  at  Mile-end  to  see  one,  who,  it 
was  said,  had  predicted  the  earthquakes.  The  man 
told  him  it  was  true,  and  that  he  had  it  from  an  Angel* 
Whiston  rejected  this  as  apocryphal.  For  he  was 
well  assured  that,  if  the  favour  of  this  secret  was  to 
be  communicated  to  any  one,  it  would  be  to  himself. 
He  is  so  enraged  at  Middleton,  that  he  has  just  now 
quarrelled  downright  with  the  Speaker  for  having 
spoke  a  good  word  for  him  many  years  ago  in  the 
affair  of  tht>   M'-'tership  of  the  Charter-house.     The 

ij  Spe  ik'  day  seni  for  hi  in  to  dinner  ;  he  said 

he  wf  ■,  lie.     His  Lady  sent ;  he  would  not 

*>_  joke,  of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge.     // 

E 


34 

come.  She  went  to  him,  and  clambered  up  into  his 
garret  to  ask  him  about  the  earthquake !  He  told  her, 
"  Madam,  you  are  a  virtuous  woman,  you  need  not 
"  fear,  none  but  the  wicked  will  be  destroyed.  You 
'*  will  escape.  I  would  not  give  the  same  promise  to 
"  your  husband." — What  will  this  poor  nation  come 
to!  In  the  condition  of  troops  between  two  fires;  the 
madness  of  Irreligion  and  the  madness  of  Fanaticism. 


LETTER  XXI. 

I  HOPE  my  Julian  will  be  out  in  a  few  days.  I  have 
ordered  one  to  he  sent  to  )ou,  which,  I  know,  you  will  read 
with  your  usual  candour.  Earthquakes  are  so  fashionable 
a  subject,  and  fiery  eruptions  now  so  much  dreaded,  that 
this  old  story  may  stand  some  chance  of  engaging  the 
attention  of  the  more  serious,  or  the  most  frighted.  The 
prospect  of  any  good  from  this  book  is  as  unlikely  as  hurt 
from  these  late  alarms.  The  greatest  mischief  these  earth- 
quakes have  hitherto  done  is  only  widening  the  crack  in 
old  Will  Whiston's  noddle  ;  ever  excepting  the  fall  of  the 
pinnacles  at  Westminster.  Where  was  the  Genius  loci  of 
the  school  when  this  disaster  happened !  perhaps  in  the 
office  of  Diana  when  her  Temple  was  a  burning,  gone  a 
midwifingto  some  Minerva  of  the  brain,  which  is  to  make 
its  first  bodily  appearance  in  an  immortal  epigram  at  the 
next  election  of  scholars. — Pray  (not  to  profane  my  ques- 
tion by  what  it  stands  nextj  have  you  destined  your  dis- 
course on  imitation  (which  I  have  the  highest  idea  of)  for 
any  particular  work?  I  may  tell  you  some  time  or  other 
^vhy  I  ask. 

Prior- Paj%  April  5th,  1750. 

I  desire  you  would  burn  the  sheets  of  Julian  that  you 
have  in  your  hands. 


35 


LETTER  XXII. 

YOU  may  be  sure  your  approbation  of  my  book  gives 
me  much  pleasure.  Nor  does  what  you  say  of  the  specimen 
of  Brute  give  Mr.  Browne  less ;  though  with  regard  to  the 
production  of  anew  epic  poem  I  think  entirely  with  you. 

We  understood  that  he  was  much  indisposed  in  the 
North.  On  which  I  wrote  to  him  to  Carlisle,  to  consult 
his  Physicians,  to  know  if  the  waters  of  Bath  were  likely  to 
do  him  service ;  if  they  were,  I  desired  he  would  come  to 
Prior-Park  to  drink  them.  The  next  news  I  heard  of  him 
was  from  Cambridge,  by  which  I  understood  he  had  never 
received  my  letter.  But  on  his  coming  to  London  he 
found  it  there.  He  accepted  of  the  invitation,  and  is  now 
with  us,  where  I  shall  leave  him  to  diink  the  waters  till  he 
has  enough  of  them  ;  and  from  hence  he  proposes  crossing 
the  country  into  the  North.  For  my  part,  I  am  condemned 
to  go  to  London  alone,  to  preach  the  two  next  terms  ; 
in  the  interval  between  which  I  have  some  thoughts  of 
going  into  Lincolnshire.  Which  reminds  me  of  a  neglect 
I  have  been  guilty  of.  A  worthy  man  of  that  country, 
Mr.  Towne,  formerly  of  Clare-Hall,  a  reasoning  engine, 
as  Voltaire  calls  Dr.  Clarke,  and  a  great  admirer  of  yours, 
desired  I  would  order  one  of  his  books  of  the  Inquiry 
into  the  Opinions  of  the  Antient  Philosophers  to  be  sent 
to  you,  which  I  have  hitherto  neglected  to  do. 

I  am  glad  the  discourse  on  imitation  is  advancing.  It 
the  Commentary  on  the  Ars  Poetica  and  the  Epistle  to 
Augustus  and  that  discourse  will  altogether  make  just  a 
volume,  I  think  they  should  do  so.  If  they  will  not,  I 
think  the  discourse  should  not  be  pui)]i3hed  alone.  Pam- 
phlets are  soon  forgotten  ;  and  this  should  be  conveyed  to 
posterity. 

If  Rutherforth's  book  against  Middleton  be  in  mere  gra- 
titude to  B.  L.  I  sincerely  honour  him  foi    it.     If  there 


36 

be  any  thing  of  gratitude,  though  it  be  with  other  impure 
mixture,  I  cannot  but  give  him  some  share  of  my  esteem. 
But  if  it  be  only  a  sordid  view  of  interest,  an  itch  for  con- 
troversy, or  the  vanity  of  shining,  which  sets  him  upon 
scribbling,  he  is  to  be  laughed  at ;  and  if  he  attempts  to  hide 
those  motives  by  the  pretence  of  gratitude,  he  is  then  truly 
contemptible.  I  will  only  venture  to  say  this,  if  he  knows 
no  more  of  theology  than  he  does  of  morals,  he  is  the 
meanest  pedant  of  the  age.  The  affectation  of  being  sm- 
gular  has  made  him  a  bad  moralist.  Will  the  affectation 
of  being  orthodox  make  him  a  good  Divine  ?  Of  the  two 
I  think  Stebbing  the  more  tolerable,  who  labours  to  sup- 
port other  people's  nonsense  rather  than  his  own.  And 
I  can  pardon  the  joke  in  his  preface,  that  he  pretends  to 
no  7iew  discoveries^  for  the  sake  of  his  being  in  serious  sad- 
ness as  good  as  his  word.  I  imagine  that  in  about  a  fort- 
night I  shall  be  in  London.  But  wherever  I  am,  be 
assured  you  have  there  a  friend  who  loves  you. 

It  comes  into  my  head,  before  I  conclude,  just  to  men- 
tion to  you  how  I  came  to  commend  a  book,  or  rather  a 
man,  whom  I  fancy  you  have  never  heard  of.  But  you 
know  as  much  of  him  as  I  do.  His  name  (if  it  be  a  real 
name)  is  Toll.  Without  knowing  any  thing  of  this  mira- 
cle-controversy but  what  he  found  in  Middleton  and 
Dodwell,  or  indeed  any  thing  of  antiquity  at  all,  (as  appears 
by  what  he  says  of  the  state  of  physic  in  the  time  of  Seve- 
rus,)  he  has  ventured  to  moderate  between  them,  and  with 
so  much  candour  and  good  sense  that  I  think  it  by  far  the 
best  book  that  has  been  wrote  on  either  side.  The  public 
did  not  think  fit  to  take  any  notice  of  it.  And  (as  the 
Clown  in  Shakespear  says)  it  was  a  poor  humour  of  mine 
to  speak  well  of  one  that  nobody  else  xvoidd. 

Prior-Parky  April  2Ut,  17 5Q* 


37 


LETTER  XXIIt. 

BEING  just  upon  the  point  of  returning  into  the  coun- 
try, I  would  not  leave  the  town  before  I  made  you  my  ac- 
knowledgments for  your  last  favour  of  the  STthpast. 

The  hot  weather,  and  a  cough,  which  I  hope  the  coun- 
try air  and  exercise,  which  I  cannot  take  here,  will  remove, 
makes  me  decamp  without  going  through  the  campaign  of 
next  term.  The  warfare  of  us  soldiers  of  the  Church 
militant  is  upon  much  worse  terms  than  that  of  our  pre- 
decessors. By  the  connivance  at  least  of  our  superiors, 
our  pay  is  lessened  and  our  duty  doubled.  Our  prede 
cessors  had  but  one  point  to  gain,  which  was  to  persuade 
people  to  save  their  souls.  We  have  two  :  first,  to  per- 
suade them  they  have  souls  to  be  saved  ;  which  is  so  long 
a  doing,  that  before  we  come  to  the  second,  we  are  ready 
to  give  place  to  another  generation,  and  are  both  on  our 
d4Hfe^kaiitt)^  llVtliHI  this  comes  in  question 

What  y^dly^^f  Chapman's  Charge  is  pleasant  enough. 
The  Bishop  of  London  told  me  of  it,  and  I  own  I  could 
not  forbear  laughing  while  he  mentioned  it;  as  Cibber 
when  he  told  his  patron  of  an  Ode  he  made  at  school,  said 
he  was  sure  he  could  not  forbear  laughing  at  the  sound. 

The  inclosed  book  is  for  a  young  gentleman  whom  I 
promised  to  introduce  to  your  knowledge,  as  that  by  which 
I  shall  do  him  a  real  service,  and  lay  myself  under  a  real 
obligation  to  ycu.  All  this  I  say  without  the  least  affec- 
tation, as  you  shall  judge  by  the  case  which  I  am  going  to 
open  to  you. 

Mr.  Richard  Sutton,  apensioner  of  Trinity  College,  is 
the  younger  son  of  the  late  Lady  Sunderland  and  Sir  Robert 
Sutton,  persons  with  whom  I  had  a  long  and  intimate 
friendship,  and  was  under  great  obligations  to.  He  is  just 
come   to  College,  after  having  been  long  at  the  head  of 


38 

Westminster  School.  A  perfect  boy  in  the'simplicity  of  his 
manners,  but  of  surprising  acquirements.  Besides  his  know- 
ledge of  the  ancient  languages,  he  speaks  and  writes  Spa- 
nish and  French  with  great  exactness,  understands  Italian, 
and  is  now  learning  High-Dutch.  I  had  promised  him 
you  should  take  notice  of  him.  I  am  sure  I  cannot  render 
him  so  great  a  service  as  by  obtaining  this  favour  of  you. 
Besides,  I  believe  the  acquaintance  and  friendship  of  so 
promising  a  youth  will  be  a  pleasure  to  you.  I  be- 
lieve you  will  find  him  perfectly  docile.  He  has  deter- 
mined for  the  Law.  I  have  wrote  to  him,  so  that  when- 
ever you  send  for  him  you  will  do  a  real  pleasure  to  us 
fcotli.  Had  I  had  any  direction  in  his  education,  he  should 
not  be  where  he  is. 

I  do  suppose  your  letter  of  thanks  to  the  Bishop 
was  sufficient.  Only,  when  you  come  to  town,  you  will 
go  to  see  him.  I  should  be  glad  to  carry  you  thither  in 
the  beginning  of  winter. 


LETTER  XXIV. 

Frior-Park^    yuhj    11  thy    1750. 

1  HAVE  received  the  favour  of  yours  of  the  4th  with 
much  pleasure. 

I  perceive  by  it  you  have  not  received  a  letter  which 
I  wrote  to  you  on  my  leaving  London,  and  a  little  High- 
Dutch  book  to  be  entrusted  to  your  conveyance.  In 
that  letter  I  acquainted  you  with  the  reason  of  my  sudden 
return  hither.  A  cold  which  had  hung  on  me  for  two 
months  ended  in  a  cough,  for  which  I  knew  there  was  no 
remedy  like  country  air  and  exercise  ;  on  which  account 
I  determined  to  take  it  forthwith,  and  am  now,  I  thank 
God,  much  better,  but  not  quite  recovered. 


39 

You  were  extremely  good  to  deviate  so  much  on  the 
right  hand  (and  I  know  if  ever  you  do  deviate  it  will  be 
on  that  side)  for  the  reason  you  mention.  But  if  you 
have  seen  my  friends  at  Grantham,  particularly  Mr.  Towne, 
you  will  have  no  reason  to  think  yourself  disappointed. 
There  are  half  a  dozen  worthy  men  there,  with  whom, 
for  a  course  of  years,  I  have  spent  the  most  pleasurable 
parts  of  my  life.  And  few  things  can  make  me  amends 
for  the  loss  I  have  of  them.  I  am  particularly  glad  you 
have  given  so  sincere  a  pleasure  to  Mr.  Towne,  who  will 
think  himself  both  honoured  and  happy  in  your  visit.  If 
you  think  the  acquisition  of  a  warm  friend  valuable, 
treasure  him  up  in  your  heart,  for  such  he  will  prove  to 
you,  for  no  esteem  could  be  higher  than  his  for  you, 
before  he  knew  you.  I  would  have  every  man  of  virtue 
and  letters  imitate  the  true  virtuoso-taste  in  this,  who  en- 
joy and  even  adore  ancient  coins  for  the  elegance  of  their 
figures  and  the  learning  of  their  inscriptions  ;  and  use  as 
they  deserve  the  current  cash,  which  the  necessities  of 
life  make  it  prudent  to  get  as  much  of  as  they  fairly  can, 
but  never  be  an  idolizer  of  that  which  is  a  slave  to  every 
body  else. 

I  hear  Dr.  Middleton  lias  been  lately  at  London,  (I  sup- 
pose to  consult  Dr.  Htberden  about  his  health,)  and  is 
returned  in  an  extreme  liad  condition.  The  scribblers 
against  him  will  say  they  have  killed  him.  But,  by  what 
Mr.  Yorke  told  me,  his  bricklayer  w'ill  dispute  the  ho- 
nour of  his  death  with  them.  Seriously  I  am  much  con- 
cerned for  the  poor  man,  and  wish  he  may  recover  with 
all  my  heart.  Had  he  had,  I  will  not  say.  piety,  but 
greatness  of  mind  enough  not  to  suffer  the  pretended  in- 
juries of  some  Churchmen  to  prejudice  him  against  Reli- 
gion, I  should  love  him  living,  and  honour  his  memory 
when  dead.  But,  good  God !  that  man,  for  the  discour- 
tesies done  him  bv  his  miserable   fellow-creatures,  sliould 


40 

be  content  to  devest  himself  of  the  true  viaticum,  the  com- 
fort, the  solace,  the  asylum  from  all  the  evils  of  human 
life,  is  perfectly  astonishing !  I  believe  no  one  (all  things 
considered)  has  suffered  more  from  the  low  and  vile  pas- 
sions of  the  high  and  low  amongst  our  brethren  than 
myself.  Yet  God  forbid  it  should  ever  suffer  me  to  be 
cold  in  the  Gospel  interests,  which  are  indeed  so  much 
my  own,  that  without  it  I  should  be  disposed  to  consider 
humanity  as  the  most  forlorn  part  of  the  creation. 

Some  papers,  that  just  now  lie  before  me,  prompt  me 
to  ask  you,  for  want  of  something  to  fill  up  my  letter, 
whether  ever  I  told  you  of  a  project,  I  long  have  had  in 
view,  of  composing  an  essay  on  theological  studies  for  the 
use  of  young  people.  The  principle  heads  will  be 
these  : 

I.  The  right  state  and  disposition  of  the  mind  to  make 
proper  Improvements — in  this  will  be  considered 
the  notions  of  Scepticism,  Dogmaticalness,  En- 
thusiasm, Superstition,  &c. 
The  previous  studies  of  Morality  and  Natural  Theolo- 
gy, from  their  first  principles  and  foundations. 
The  study  of  Antiquity  ;  Critical,  Historical,  and 
Philosophical. 

3.  The  study  of  the  scriptures. 

4.  Fathers  and  modern  Divines. 

5.  Ecclesiastical  History. 

6.  Sermonizing,  or  the  Art  of  Preaching. 

What  gave  birth  to  this  project  was  observing  the 
strange  avcrseness  that  grown  men  have  for  noveltieHf 
and  that  all  men  have  for  o?/i£'r6'  jnaking  experiments  i7i 
religion.  So  that  I  thought  it  would  be  no  ill  scheme  if  I 
could  contribute  towards  drawing  the  next  generation " 
into  a  more  liberal  and  enlarged  way  of  thinking,  and  make 
them  do  that  for  themselves,  which  they  have  an  unwil- 
lingness, from  many  opposing  passions,  that  others  should 


41 

do  for  them.  This  I  propose  for  the  amusement  of  my 
decline  of  life  :  but  I  could  not  resist  the  pleasure  of  com- 
municating the  scheme  to  you.     For 

Te  mihi  junxerunt  nivei  sine  crimlne  mores, 
Simplicitasque  sagax,  ingenuusqtie  pudor, 
Et  bene  nota  fides,  et  candor  frontis  honestse, 
Et  studia  a  studlis  non  aliena  meis.* 

Seriously  I  am  sorry  you  was  obliged  to  fly  into  the 
country  for  the  same  reason  I  did.  Let  me  be  assured 
you  have  found  a  thorough  benefit  by  it.  You  cannot 
acquaint  me  with  any  thing  which  will  give  me  more 
pleasure. 


LETTER  XXV. 

I  HAVE  the  favour  of  your  obliging  letter  of  the  14th 
past  to  than'-:  you  for. 

Nothing  can  be  juster  than  all  you  say  of  the  real  value 
of  that  loss  which  the  Republic  of  letters  has  sustained  by 
Dr.  Middleton's  death.  He  was  just  what  you  think 
him,  and  no  more.  I  do  not  think  his  parts  appear  any 
where  to  more  advantage  than  in  a  long  letter  f  I  received 
from  him  many  years  ago,  on  the  subject  of  Tully's  senti- 
ments, and  on  the  principle  of  the  Divine  Legation.  I  will 
send  it  to  you  for  your  entertainment  as  soon  as  I  can  find 
it  amongst  my  papers.  But  say  nothing  of  it  to  any  one, 
for  a  reason  I  will  tell  you  hereafter. 

You  rejoice  me  much  in  what  you  tell  me  of  your 
purpose  to   set  upon   a  thorough  study  of  the  Bible — 

*  For  the  author  of  tliese  verses,  see  ^Iv.  Pope's  fifth  letter  to  Mr. 
Blount.  //. 

t  It  may  he  found  in  the  last  volume  of  BisUop  WarbtU'ton's  Works  in 
•ttt).  p.  961.  with  the  Bishop's  answer.     // 

F 


42 

For  it  is  such  as  you  who  must  do  what  is  wanting,  and 
so  much  wanting,  to  the  better  understanding  of  it. — 
And  you  have,  besides  your  great  parts,  all  the  previous 
knowledge  required  to  study  it  to  purpose;  I  mean, 
a  complete  knowledge  of  profane  antiquity,  and  of  the 
science  of  ethics,  both  private  and  public:  of  the  latter 
of  which  branches  the  most  considerable  part  for  this  pur- 
pose is  the  chapter  of  Laws.  Of  which,  under  its  theologic 
consideration  (to  mention  it  by  the  way)  I  know  of  nothing 
so  complete  and  masterly  as  the  first  book  of  Hooker's 
"  Ecclesiastical  Polit)'." 

I  wish  I  was  better  able  than  I  am  to  give  you  my 
thoughts  of  the  method  to  be  pursued  iu  this  study.  But 
you  may  serve  yourself  of  the  following  hints. 

I  think  you  should  begin  with  those  two  great  master- 
pieces of  erudition,  Morinus's  "  Exercitations,"  and  Capel- 
lus's  "  Critica  Sacra,"  in  the  order  I  name  them  :  I  need 
not  sa)^  in  the  best  editions.  You  will  see,  by  this  recom- 
mendation, of  what  party  I  am  with  regard  to  the  authen- 
tic text ;  being  persuaded,  that,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
Septuagint,  the  Hebrew  Bible  would  have  been  as  unintel- 
ligible as  any  cypher  is  without  its  key,  by  which  nothing 
could  be  learned  ;  or  rather,  since  the  invention  of  the 
Hebrew  pojnts,  a  complete  nose  of  wax,  to  be  turned  every 
way,  and  made  say  every  thing.  Which  partly  arises 
from  the  beggarly  scantiness  of  the  language,  partly  because 
no  more  remains  of  the  tongue  than  is  contained  in  one 
single  book  of  no  great  bigness,  but  principally  from  there 
having  been  no  vowel-points  affixed  till  many  ages  after  it 
was  become  a  dead  language.  This  impenetrable  darkness 
was  a  fit  scene  for  mysteries  j  and  out  of  this  they  rose  in 
abttndance:  first  by  the  cultivation  of  Cabalistic  Jews  of 
old,  in  these  latter  times  by  Cocceius  in  Holland,  and  by 
Hutchinson  amongst  us :  which  now  is  growing  into  a 
fashionable  madness.     On  which  account  I  have  thought 


43 

le  not  ajTfiiss  to  plan  out  a  dissertation  in  the  I;iat  voUuiie 
of  the  Divine  Legation,  to  shew  that  thia  mystery  in  He- 
brew roots  is  foreign  to  the  genius  of  the  tongue,  whicii 
has  an  entire  conformity  to  other  barbai'ous  languages 
— to  the  nature  of  Moses's  dispensation — ^■to  the  na- 
ture of  the  religions  of  those  times — to  the  end  of 
God's  dispensations — no  foundation  in  the  reason  and  na- 
ture of  things —  and  is  expressly  confuted  by  many  express 
assertions  of  Christ  and  his  Apostles.  To  give  you  only 
a  sample  of  the  last.  The  Ilutchinsonians  pretend  that 
the  reason  of  ail  the  institutions  in  the  Mosaic  Law,  is  to 
be  found  out  in  tlie  mysteries  of  the  Hebrew  roots:  in 
consequence  of  v/hich  they  exclaim  against  those  as  most 
impious  vvlio  affirm  any  thing  in  the  Lav/  was  instituted  in 
compliance  to  the  people's  infirmities.  And  yet  Jesus  in 
a  capital  point,  that  of  Polygamy,  says  it  was  indulged  to 
the  Jews  for  the  hardness  of  their  hearts.  Again,  the 
Hutchinsonians  say,  that  the  very  vitality  of  all  Revealed 
Religion  is  lodged  in  these  mysteries  :  and  yet  St.  Paul 
says,  speaking  of  the  old  law,  that  the  ktter  killeth. — Byt 
I  have  rambled  from  my  subject. 

When  you  have  read  Morinus  and  Capcilus,  I  should 
think  it  would  be  worth  your  while  to  peruse  P.  Simon's 
*'  Critical  History  of  the  Old  Testament" — then  Le  Clerc's 
*'  Sentiments  of  the  Divines  of  Holland,"  Simon's  answer 
to  it — Le  Clerc's  "  Defence  of  the  Sentiments,"  and  Simon's 
reply  to  that.  After  this  I  should  advise  you  to  read  Mai  ■ 
monides's  famous  book  called  '•  Ductor  Dubitantium." 
It  contains  the  method  of  the  wisest  and  most  learned 
Jew  that  ever  was  of  interpreting  Scripture:  the  last  part 
of  which  work  you  will  find  is  the  groundwork  of  Spencer's 
admirable  book  "  de  Legibus  Hebrieorunij"  with  which 
j'ou  may  conclude  your  previous  reading.  And  then 
begin  with  the  Bible,  the  Polyglott,  and  the  "Sacred  Critics," 
as  they  are  called,  always  before  you.  This  is  a  collec- 
tion of  manv  excellent  critical    rommentiUors  on  th-e  t<'xr 


44 

amongst  iwluch  Grotius  may  be  found  entire.  Besides 
these,  I  know  no  modern  critic  you  will  want  to  see,  except 
it  be  Le  Clerc.  And  of  all  the  ancient  commentators  you 
need  be  little  solicitous,  except  it  be  of  St.  Jerom,Vho 
has  many  excellent  things;  and  is  the  only  Father  that  can 
be  called  a  Critic  on  the  sacred  writings,  or  who  has  fol- 
lowed a  just  or  reasonable  method  of  criticising. — You 
perceive  what  I  have  said  relates  only  to  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, and  is  enough,  I  presume,  at  present. 

I  was  so  sensible  of  the  truth  of  what  you  say  of  the 
reception  of  Julian,  that  I  would  not  venture  what  I  have 
to  say  of  the  evidence  of  Jliracles,  till  I  had  a  little  obvi- 
ated common  prejudices  by  the  establishment  of  that  at 
Jerusalem.  I  am  now  digesting  the  other  part,  which 
you  will  find  will  blast  all  my  lately  acquired  credit  with 
the  Divines.  Nay  in  Julian  there  were  some  things  I 
would  not  venture  to  say  on  the  first  appearance  of  it,  as 
you  will  see  when  I  send  you  a  copy  of  the  second  edi- 
tion, which  is  now  printing. 

I  am  sincerely  sorry  your  ramble  has  done  you  no  more 
service.  But  indispositions  at  your  years  have  seldom 
any  worse  consequences  than  the  present  pain.  I  should 
be  sorry  indeed  if  this  were  not  your  case.  As  for  my- 
self, I  use  exercise,  which  has  restored  me  to  my  usual 
good  health.     In  all  states  I  am,  &c. 

Prior- Park^  September  Ist^  1750. 


LETTER  XXVI. 

I  HAVE  your  obliging  favour  of  the  4tli.  It  gives 
me  great  pleasure  that  you  are  so  forward  with  the  Epis- 
tle to  Augustus.  If  you  will  take  care  that  the  papers 
be  sent  to  my  servant  in  Bedford-Row,  who  is  vtry  care- 


45 

ful,  so  that  I  may  find  them  on  my  coming  to  town, 
which  will  be  the  19th  of  this  month,  it  will  be  a 
great  addition  to  the  favour.  I  will  tell  you  with- 
out affectation  or  insincerity,  that  having  got  a  good 
way  into  your  Horace  without  finding  any  thing  consi- 
derable to  cavil  with  you  upon,  though  I  entered  upon  it 
with  full  malice,  I  threw  it  by  ;  though  I  v/ill  now  rcas- 
sume  it.  It  mortified  me  more  than  I  will  tell  any  body 
but  yourself;  and  I  shall  have  credit  with  you,  when 
you  see  how  much  I  found  wanting  to  correct  in  style  in 
the  second  edition  of  Julian.  I  never  heard  of  D'Or- 
ville's  book.  I-  thank  you  for  Mr.  Pope.  Yet  I  will 
fairly  tell  you  how  far  I  think  you  should  venture. 

I  am  sorry  the  letter,  with  the  Dutch  book,  never  came 
to  hand.  It  was  to  recommend  to  your  favour  and  notice 
a  charming  young  boy,  a  younger  son  of  Sir  Robert  Sut- 
ton and  Lady  Sunderland,  who  is  now  of  Trinity  College. 
I  had  high  obligations  and  a  close  friendship  with  his  fa- 
ther and  mother,  and  the  greatest  love  for  the  whole  fami- 
ly. Not  that  I  should  have  recommended  him  to  your 
notice,  but  that  he  is  the  most  extraordinary  young  boy 
I  ever  knew.  If  you  won't  take  my  word,  I  will  give 
you  Dr.  Nichols's,*  who  tells  me  he  never  met  with  his 
fellow.  He  was  bred  at  Westminster,  and  having  mas- 
tered the  learned  languages  at  school,  he  got  the  three 
modern  ones  in  conversing  with  his  mother  and  sister; 
some  of  which  he  speaks.  I  told  him  I  v.'ould  recom- 
mend him  to  you.  And  it-  gives  him  great  pleasure. 
I  fancy  by  this  time  he  must  be  come  back  to  College, 
from  his  cousin  Mr.  Spencer's,  at  Althorpe.  Whenever 
you  have  leisure  to  give  him  an  hour  of  your  time,  if 
you  send  for  him  you  Nvill  make  him  very  happy. 

I  write  in  a  hurry,  because  I  would  not  lose  this  post^ 
for  the  sake  of  finding  your  papers  on  my  arrival  In  town. 

Prior-Park^  October  7th^  1750. 

*  Tlien  Mftstev  of  Westminster  S'j}io«l     !f 


46 


LETTER  XXVTI. 

I  HAVE  sent  you  some  trifling  observations,  but  the 
best  I  could  make,  or  more  properly  the  best  you  would  af- 
ford me.  They  are  not  only  trifling,  but  I  am  not  certain 
of  the  truth  of  any  one  of  them.  But  I  would  not  ap- 
pear to  be  wanting  to  you.  And  this  will  deserve  that 
you  should  treat  me  well  in  your  turn ;  and  that  is,  to 
use  them  but  just  as  they  deserve,  and  reject  all  your  judg- 
ment condemns,  though  this  should  extend  to  every  one 
of  them. 

It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  understand  that  you  found 
benefit  by  your  last  ramble.  But  nothing  could  give  me 
greater  than  to  find  you  have  a  determined  purpose  to  pro- 
secute the  study  of  Theology  at  the  fountain-head.  You 
are  the  only  successor  I  could  wit>h  to  have.  And  if,  for 
some  secret  reasons  of  Providence,  these  attempts  be  not 
defeated,  I  am  sure,  if  you  live,  you  will  efl"ect  what  I 
attempted,  to  make  revelation  understood,  which  we  are 
ignorant  of  to  a  degree  that  will  hereafter  appeaj:  amazing 
to  you.     But 

Ex  me  verumque  laborem ; 


Fortunam  ex  aliis. 
Prior-Park,   October  9th,  IT 50. 

LETTER    XXVIIL 

I  HAVE  received  your  papers.  It  perfectly  charms 
me,  what  I  have  read  of  it,  which  is  the  Commentary. 
I  could  not  on  this  reading  find  a  word  to  alter.  Though 
you  bespeak  my  candour,  I  will  assure  you  I  read  it  with 
much  severity.     What  I  am  going  to  say,  I  say  with  the 


47 

tUniost    sincerity.       I  think  myself  very  fortunate   that  I 
have  as  it  were  chalked  out  the  road  for  such  a  genius, 
that  will,  I  see,  if  he  lives,  complete  what  I   aimed  at, 
and  had  only  an  idea  of:  not  only  in  this  way  of  writing, 
but  in  another  of  infinite  more  importance.    So  that  though 
I  cannot  but  love  and  esteem  the  modesty  which  in  your 
last  letter  but  one  made  you  talk  of  only  being  a  Reader 
and  not  a  Writer^  yet  if  I  could   ihink  that  temper  would 
gain  more  upon  you  than  making  you  careful  to  get  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  your  subject  before  you  writ  upon 
it,  it  would  give  me  the   sincerest  concern  in  the   world. 
I  will  tell  you  a  truth,  though  it   ought  more   to  offend 
my   modesty  than  yours :  I   shall  take  more  pleasure   in 
being  out-done  by  you,  than  in  obtaining  any  literary  vic- 
tory over  a  learned  adversary.     But  for  the  future,  I  shall 
be  more  reserved  in  telling  you  what  I  think  of  you  ;  that 
is,  upon   condition    you   don't  provoke  me  again  by  your 
talk   of  sticking   to   your   Rcackrship.     Pray  why    don't 
you,  forthwith,  put  the   Art  of  Poetry  to  the   press.     I 
foresee  what   you  have  sent  me  will  be    soon  ready    to 
follow  it. 

I  understand  by  a  letter  from  Mr.  Sutton,  that  he  has 
not  yet  got  back  to  College. 

Bedford-Row^  October  29th,  175.0. 


LETTER  XXIX. 

I  HAVE  run  over  your  papers  :  and  the  honou;'  they 
do  both  to  yourself  and  Horace  is  such  as  the  best  Poet 
and  the  best  Critic  need  not  be  ashamed  of.  I  will  read 
them  again  to  see  what  is  worth  hinting  at  for  your  recon- 
sideration, and  then  send  them.  But  I  could  by  all 
means  wish  you  would  conclude  them  v/ith  a  note  'on 
imitation.     And  indeed  that  is  the  occasion  of  the  present 


trouble.  If  it  be  but  an  essay,  on  the  plan  you  have  laid, 
down,  it  will  be  sufficient  :  but  it  will  end  your  work  so 
properly  that  something  of  this  kind  I  think  should  be 
done.  Besides,  the  subject  is  now  fresh,  and  would  engage 
the  attention.  In  a  litde  time  the  occasion  that  has  raised 
it,  the  silly  book  of  Lauder,  will  be  lost  and  forgotten,  and 
with  it  the  question  itself,  as  far  as  it  concerns  the  general 
attention. 

I  am  much  indebted  to  you  for  your  generous  vindi- 
cation of  my  dead  friend,  who  was  himself  the  very  soul 
of  friendship. 

Bedford-Row,  October  27th,  1750. 


LETTER  XXX. 

You  arc  very  obliging  in  complying  with  my  desire.  I- 
think  a  concluding  note  on  imitation  will  complete  the  only 
piece  of  criticism  that  does  honour  to  the  art,  since  Isaac 
Casaubon.  In  return  for  your  good-nature,  I  have  been 
very  sevci'e  on  the  Comment  on  the  Epistle  to  Augustus  ; 
and,  as  severe  folks  generally  do,  talk  very  imperii - 
nendy  on  trifles  ;  which,  before  I  came  to  the  end,  I 
was  so  ashamed  of,  that  I  have  never  looked  them  over, 
so  it  will  be  good  luck  if  you  understand  them,  or  ra- 
ther good  luck  to  me  ifyoudonot.  But  it  is  no  matter. 
I  write  for  your  use,  as  I  do  for  my  orvn,  half  words  and 
hints.  I  would  make  amends  for  all  by  telling  you  a 
truth,  which  gives  me  more  pleasure  than  all  criticism — 
J  love  2J0U,  Your  candour,  your  generosity  of  mind,  your 
warm  sense  of  the  most  trifling  expression  of  my  esteem, 
which  a  mere  accident  afforded  me — for  as  Mr.  Pope  said 
to  me  in  a  letter  once,  "  Fortune  will  rarely  suffer  one  dis- 
*'  interested  man  tp  serve  anothei".     Tis  too  much  an  insult 


49 

"  upon  her  to  let  two  of  those  who  most  despise  her  fa- 
"  vours,  be  happy  in  them  at  the  same  time,  and  in  the 
"  same  instance."  But  let  it  suffice  as  I  say,  that  I  love 
you.     I  know  it  will  to  you  :  though  it  will  not  to  me. 

I  have  a  friend  here  in  town  who  saw  a  good  friend  of 
yours  this  last  summer  at  Buxton,  and  gave  me  but  a  very 
indifferent  account  of  his  health  :  which  gave  me  a  sincere 
concern.  I  am  no  stranger  to  his  excellent  character,  and 
think  myself  unfortuaate  that  I  am  not  of  his  acquaintance. 
Pray  bring  us  together,  and  assure  him  how  much  I  ho- 
nour him.  The  person  I  mean  is  Mr.  Balguy,  of  St.  John's. 
I  have  committed  your  papers,  sealed  up,  to  very  sure 
hands,  Mr.  Knapton,  my  Bookseller,  who  promises  to 
see  it  well  conveyed. 
Bedford-Roxv^  November  8th,  1 750. 


LETTER  XXXr. 

I  HAVE  the  favour  of  yours  of  the  18th.  It  gives  me 
great  pleasure  to  understand  that  a  man  of  so  uncommon 
merit  and  so  close  connexion  with  you,  as  Mr.  Balguy  is, 
meets  my  inclinations  and  wishes  to  deserve  his  friendship 
with  so  much  good-nature  and  politeness.  I  shall  think 
myself  extremely  happy  in  the  hearts  of  two  such  men. 
These  are  all  the  pluralities,  that  are  not  sinecures,  which  I 
would  accept ;  and  the  only  ones  I  am  ambitious  of.  I  do 
truly  rejoice  that  the  waters  at  Buxton  have  been  of  service 
to  him,  and  the  more  so,  as  I  had  been  given  to  understand 
they  were  of  none.  But  as  this  has  happily  been  the  case,  I 
hope  he  will  think  of  completing  his  cure  at  Bath,  for  wc 
understand  that  the  Buxton  are  only  the  Bath  waters  in  an 
inferior  degree,  and  less  efficacious :  and  I  have  more  rea- 
sons than  one  to  wish  he  would  try  these. 


50 

Without  affectation,  I  was  and  am  diffident  of  most  of  the 
hints  I  sent  you  with  your  MS.  and  we  are  too  much 
above  forms,  and  you  are  too  much  my  friend,  to  do  any 
thing  in  such  a  work  (which  is  to  live)  out  of  ceremony. 
For  the  rest,  use  me  freely,  and  the  oftener,  the  more  wel- 
come. I  will  always  tell  you  my  mind.  I  propose  return- 
ing to  this  place  (which  I  shall  leave  for  Prior-Park  Satur- 
day se'nnight)  soon  after  Christmas.  When  are  we  to 
see  you  in  town  ?  Have  you  sent  your  book  to  the  press  ? 
Is  it  to  be  printed  here,  or  in  Cambridge  ?  This  puts  me 
in  mind  to  thank  you  for  one  of  mine  in  the  press,  which 
you  have  helped  to  render  less  faulty.  It  is  certain  enough 
that  Amos  and  Zechariah  do  mention  a  very  notable  earth- 
quake. I  had  forgot  it :  but  your  advice  came  just  in  time 
to  put  it  in  its  place,  which  I  would  have  done  though  it  had 
made  as  much  against  my  argument  as  it  does  for  it. 

I  have  read  over  the  Academic  twice,  with  great  pleasure. 
It  is  an  admirable  thing,  and  full  of  delicate  and  fine- 
turned  raillery.  The  author  was  cruel  to  turn  it  out  and 
expose  it,  like  an  orphan,  to  the  care  of  a  parish  nurse,  a 
sleepy  printer,  who  had  like  to  have  overlaid  it.  There  is 
an  arch  thing  in  the  7ih  page,  which  I  like  much  ;  and  a 
fine,  and,  as  I  understand  it,  a  friendly  intimation,  in  the 
note  at  page  27.  Though  I  am  a  stranger  to  most  of  the 
facts,  there  is  one  I  am  no  stranger  to,  and  I  heartily  sub- 
scribe to  its  truth,  though  it  makes  against  myself:  I 
believe  the  legislators  won't  be  so  ingenuous.     It  is  in  page 

26. 

In  short,  it  is  an  excellent  thing  ;  and  I  have  recommend- 
ed it  as  such  to  the  Solicitor-General,  who  I  had  a  mind 
should  let  Newcastle-house  know  the  difference  between 
their  friends  and  their  sycophants.  The  Bishop  of  Oxford 
was  here  this  morning,  and  I  promised  him  a  pleasure, 
which  he  seemed  impatient  to  get  to.  He  had  seen  the  title 
of  it  in  the  papers.     But  our  London  books  are  like  oar 


51 

London  veal,  never  fit  for  entertainment  or  the  table  till 
they  have  been  well  puffed  and  blown  up.  He  asked  whe- 
ther the  author  was  known.  I  told  him  no,  nor  I  believed 
ever  would  ;  and  my  reason  was,  that,  for  the  sake  of 
secrecy  he  seemed  to  have  dropped  it,  to  be  taken  up  by  the 
the  first  printer  that  came  by  :  and  it  was  certain  that  he 
who  found  it  had  used  it  as  if  he  was  accountable  to  nobody 
for  his  treatment  of  it. 

Bedford-Korvy  November  23 J,  1750. 


LETTER  XXXII. 

I  HAVE  the  pleasure  of  your  kind  letter  of  the  16th  ; 
and  am  glad  to  hear  you  have  finished  your  labours  on 
Horace.  Glad,  that  literature  will  be  enriched  with  so 
fine  a  piece  of  criticism  ;  but  much  gladder,  that  you  will 
have  now  nothing  to  hinder  the  prosecution  of  your  great 
scheme  ;  the  only  subject  worthy  your  talents,  and  suffi- 
cient to  reward  your  virtues. 

It  is  generous  and  right  in  you,  to  take  notice  in  an  ad- 
vantageous manner  of  two  such  promising  young  men  as 
Mr.  Brown  and  Mr.  Mason,  vv  ho  prevent  us  from  de- 
spairing of  the  quick  revival  of  the  poetic  genius. 

Mr.  Brown  is  printing  his  remarks  on  the  Character- 
istics. It  will  be  much  better  than  you  could  conceive 
from  the  specimen  you  saw  of  it.  IMr.  Yorke  and  I  ad- 
vised him  to  give  it  a  different  form.  We  said,  that  if  we 
were  to  answer  a  grave,  formal,  methodical  work,  we 
should  choose  to  do  it  in  the  loose  way  of  dialogue  and 
raillery  :  as,  on  the  other  hand,  if  we  wrote  against  a  ram- 
bling discourse  ofxvit  and  humour^  the  best  way  of  exposing 
it  would  be  by  logical  argumentation.  The  truth  is  {inter 
nos)  his  talents  do  not  seem  so   much  to  lie  towards   fine 


52 

and  easy  raillery,  as  to  a  vivacity,  an  elegance,  and  a  cor- 
rectness oi  observation  in  the  reasoning  ■way- 

Pray  make  my  best  compliments  to  Mr.  Mason.  I 
shall  receive  him  as  a  gift  from  your  hands,  and  shall  che- 
rish him  accordingly  :  that  is,  he  may  be  assured  of  always 
finding  a  servant  and  a  friend  in  me.  He  had  my  esteem 
before,  and  I  thought  myself  much  his  debtor  on  dear  Mr. 
Pope's  account ;  but,  after  the  knowledge  of  your  value 
for  him,  nothing  can  be  wanting  to  tie  him  very  close  to 
me.  I  think  the  model  he  M'rites  his  Poem  upon,  not  only 
right  in  itself,  but  that  his  trial  of  the  success  of  it  is  very 
commendable;  and,  one  should  think,  promising;  as  it 
unJtcs  all  that  is  admired,  or  affected  to  be  admired,  in 
dramatic  performances,  Music  and  Poetry. 

At  present  I  mcike  no  question  of  my  being  in  town  in 
March.  I  and  my  family  go  thither  the  latter  end  of 
January ;  and  the  latter  end  of  February  I  expect  Mr. 
Allen  and  his  will  come  to  us  ;  which  if  they  do,  you  and 
our  excellent  friend  Mr.  Balguy  will  certainly  find  me  in 
Bedford- Row,  where  you  will  both  always  find  a  hearty 
welcome.  If  by  any  mischance  I  should  be  deprived  of 
this  pleasure,  I  have  determined  to  make  a  journey  to 
Cambridge  in  the  spring,  on  purpose  to  embrace  you  and 
him. 

Your  Cnp'ithm  would  make  one  more  serious  than,  per- 
haps, the  inventors  of  the  word  intended  we  should  be. 
How  happened  it,  in  the  definitions  of  man,  that  reason 
is  always  made  essential  to  him  ?  Nobody  ever  thought 
of  va?LY\r\^ goodness  oo.  And  yet  it  is  certain  there  are  as 
few  reasonable  men  as  there  are  good.  To  tell  you  my 
mind,  I  think  man  might  be  as  properly  defined,  an  rmi- 
mal  to  xvhom  a  sxvord  is  essential,  as  one  to  zi'hom  reason 
is  essential.  For  there  are  as  few  that  can,  and  yet  fewer 
that  dare,  use  the  one  as  the  other.  I  am  led  into  this 
way  of  thinking,  not  by  the  roguery  of  your  Heads,  which 


53 

have  little  in  them  provoking,  but  by  the  wrong  judgment 
of  their  Patrons,  who  can  turn  them  any  way,  and  should 
direct  them  better,  I  will  tell  you  the  substance  of  what 
I  said  one  day  in  conversation  to  one  of  these  great  men. 

I  said  that  the  proper  views  of  electors  in  the  choice 
of  a  Chancellor  were,  protection  of  the  University,  and 
patronage  of  its  deserving  members  :  that  the  unanimity 
of  the  electors  seemed  to  shew  that  they  acted  upon  the 
most  legitimate  of  the  two  motives  ;  so  that  they  seemed  to 
have  discharged  their  duty.  Their  Chancellor  too  seemed 
to  have  these  two  objects  in  his  eye,  but  his  creatures  had. 
set  them  in  an  ill  light.  Instead  of  considering  the  Uni- 
versity in  good  health,  and  of  the  means  to  keep  it  so, 
he  immediatly  set  upon  a  project  to  cure  it  of  I  can't  tell 
what  distempers  ;  instead  of  thinking  of  their  Jood^  he 
entered  into  a  consultation  about  their  physic  ;  though 
self-love  might  have  shewn  him,  there  was  a  strong  pre- 
sumption that  that  body,  which  concurred  so  generally 
to  prefer  him  to  all  his  great  competitors,  could  not  be 
much  out  of  order.  But  the  great  ambition  of  adding 
the  lawgiver  to  the  Magistrate,  made  him  give  ear  to 
those  sycophants  who,  in  persuading  him  of  the  preva- 
lency  of  a  malignant  spirit,  left  it  ready  for  him  to  con- 
clude how  much  must  have  been  their  zeal  and  industry 
to  elude  the  influence  of  this  wicked  spirit,  and  bring 
his  Grace  in  so  handsomely. 

But  I  said,  if  it  was  resolved  there  should  be  new  laws 
liow  absurd  was  it  to  have  them  the  enforcements  of  good 
old  laws,  rather  than  the  abrogation  of  old  bad  ones." 
For  a  man  so  experienced  in  alFairs  should  have  known 
that  though  a  multiplication  of  good  laws  do  nothing 
against  a  general  corruption  of  manners,  yet  the  abroga- 
tion of  bad  ones   greatly  promotes  reformation. 

But  with  regard  to  relaxed  discipline  in  the  idleness  and 
cvpefise  o(  students,  this,  1  said,  was  never  to  be  reformed 


by  laws,  as  "he  might  easily  understand  by  observing 
from  whence  they  arose.  When  young  men  found  that 
it  was  not  learning  or  morals,  but  the  blind  or  vicious 
favour  of  the  great  that  was  to  advance  them  in  life, 
they  would  think  no  more  of  their  studies,  but  how  to 
introduce  ihemselves  into  the  bottle-acquaintance  of  young 
people  of  quality  :  that  their  parents  ever  encouraged  them 
in  it,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  it  at  the  great  Schools, 
where  they  send  them  purposely  to  contract,  as  they  call 
it,  early  acquaintance  with  the  great,  at  an  expense  fre- 
quently they  can  but  ill  bear.  And  these  accomplishments 
for  all  the  honours  of  the  gown  being  only  to  be  gained 
in  the  road  ol  pleasure  and  amusement,  it  is  a  joke  to  think 
they  can  be  debarred  by  a  few  foolish  statutes.  But  let 
the  Government  (which  his  Grace  takes  himself  to  be) 
once  declare  that  no  man  shall  partake  of  its  favours  but 
who  continues  to  distinguish  himself  by  learning  and  vir- 
tue, it  would  be  then  as  difficult  to  get  the  young  people 
to  the  tavern  as  now  into  their  studies.  This  ltd  me  to 
tell  him  my  thoughts  of  those  Academics  who  are  in 
the  Duke's  favour,  and  of  those  who  deserve  to  be  there. 
I  overloaded  neither  of  them,  for  I  have  little  personal  ac- 
quaintance, and  no  personal  disgust  to  any  of  them.  And 
for  the  oiht^rs,  they  would  bear  a  deal  more  than  I  could 
say  of  them. 

I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  notice  you  are  so  good 
to  take  of  young  Dick  Sutton.  He  has  made  his  ac- 
knowledgments of  it  to  me.  He  is  a  charming  boy.  But 
Westminster  has  made  his  mind  a  little  whimsical.  He 
has  an  insatiable  thirst  after  new  languages.  Pray  check 
this  ill  him.  He  wrote  me  word,  the  other  day,  he  had 
a  mind  to  study  Arabic.  I  asked  him  whether  the  orato- 
ry of  the  writer  of  Pocock's  life  had  won  upon  him,  who, 
in  an  earnest  address  to  the  youth  to  apply  themselves  to 
this  charming  language,  assures  them,  as  the  height  of 
their  solace   and    consolation,  that  it  contains  twelve  mil- 


15 

lions  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  fifty  and  two  words. 
— I  told  him,  I  consented  he  should  learn  the  odd  tzvo^ 
provided  he  chose  those  two  which  signified  the  ne  plus 
of  the  Latins. 

Were  I  to  be  the  reformer  of  Westminster  School  (with 
the  highest  reverence  be  it  only  whispered)  I  would  order 
that  every  boy  should  have  impressed  upon  his  Accidence, 
in  great  gold  letters,  as  on  the  back  of  the  Horn-Book, 
that  Oracle  of  Hobbes,  that  ivords  are  the  counters  of 
zuise  tnen^  and  the  vioney  of  fools. — How  bad  are  the 
times  when  I  must  be  forced  to  make  all  my  payments 
of  friendship  to  you  in  this  sort  of  money  !  Only  be  as- 
sured that  it  has  the  least  alloy  in  it  that  ever  this  coin 
had,,  when  I  profess  how  much  I  love  you,  and  liovr 
much  I  am,  &c. 

Prior-Park^  December  2od^  1750. 


LETTER  XXXIIL 

Bedford-Row^  February  15th,  1750-1. 

I  HAVE  read  your  excellent  observations  on  the  Dra- 
ma, with  great  pleasure.  It  will  be  a  very  fine  ornament 
to  your  work. 

Our  friend  has  done  well  to  turn  you  from  the  object 
to  the  end.  This  logical  accuracy  of  method  would  do 
as  much  good  in  practical  morality  as  in  speculative 
criticism. 

I  have  but  a  word  or  two  to  propose  to  your  considera- 
tion.    You  say, 

"  The  proper  end  of  Tragedy  is  the  pathos^  including 
"  under  this  term,  the  passions  of  pity  and  terror,  &c. 
"  Comedy  hath  other  views ;  it  delineates  human  life,. 
"  but  for  the  purpose  of  producing  humour^  by  which  I 
"  understand  that  sensation  of  pleasure,"  &c» 


56 

Now  It  is  certain  that  pathos^  which  properly  signifies 
an  affection  of  the  mind,  may  be  so  used  ;  though  common- 
ly, in  English,  when  we  use  the  word  applied  to  Tragedy, 
we  mean  such  sentiments  as  excite  the  affections.  But 
as  for  the  word  humour^  I  think  it  cannot  be  used  for  that 
affection  which  you  call  a  sensation  of  pleasure,  but  only 
for  such  sentiments  as  excite  that  sensation.  Would  not 
then  the  expression  be  better  in  some  such  way  as  this  ? 

The  proper  end  of  Tragedy  is,  by  the  pathos^  to  excite 
the  passions  of  pity  and  terror,  &c.  Comedy^  &c.  by  humour^ 
to  produce  that  sensation  of  pleasure,  Sec.  and  Farce^  &c. 
by  what  is  called  burlesque^  to  excite  laughter,  &c. 

Your  observations  concerning  the  moderated ust  of  action 
and  plot  in  Comedy  are  admirable. — As  those  intricate 
Spanish  plots  have  been  in  use,  and  have  taken,  both  with 
us,  and  some  French  writers  for  the  stage,  and  have  much 
hindered  the  main  end  of  Comedy,  would  it  not  be  worth 
while  to  give  them  a  word,  as  it  would  tend  to  the  further 
illustration  of  your  subject  ? — On  which  you  might  observe, 
that  when  these  imnatural  plots  are  used,  the  mind  is  not 
only  ent'irtly  draxv7i  cj^  horn  the  characters  by  those  sur- 
prising turns  and  revolutions,  but  characters  have  no  oppor- 
tunity even  of  being  ca//ffi^  ow?  and  dis))laying  themselves. 
For  the  actors,  of  all  characters,  succeed und  are  eiribarrass- 
ed  alike,  when  the  instruments  for  carrying  on  designs 
are  o\Ay  perplexed  apartments  ^dark  entries^  disguised  habits 
and  ladders  of  ropes.  The  Comic  plot  is,  and  must,  indeed, 
be  carried  on  by  deceit.  The  Spanish  scene  does  it  by 
deceiving  the  man  through  his  senses:  Terence  and  Moliere 
by  deceiving  him  Mroz/^^'A  his  passions  and  affections.  This 
is  the  right :  for  the  character  is  720^  called  out  under  the 
first  species  of  deceit ;  under  the  second,  the  character 
does  all. — I  don't  know  whether  I  make  myself  under- 
stood. But  it  is  no  great  matter.  I  mean  nothing  by  it 
but  what  you  have  expressed  more  clearly. 


57 

The  last  thing  I  have  to  take  notice  of,  is  a  mere  trifle, 
a  small  inaccuracy  of  speech.  You  call  those  who  lived 
under  the  great  monarchies  of  Peru  and  China,  Savages 
instead  of  Barbarians.  But  you  must  consider  me  as 
doing  you  more  honour  by  this  remark  than  by  a  better  : 
as  implying  that  this,  which  would  be  very  allowable  in  an 
ordinary  writer,  is  not  to  be  indulged  you. 

Mr.  Balguy  and  you  are  happy  in  one  another.  It  was 
my  misfortune  when  I  first  set  upon  scribbling,  that  I  had 
nobody  capable  of  doing  me  this  service.  And  as  the 
little  I  knew,  I  got  Avithout  assistance,  so  I  had  none  to 
help  me  in  communicating  it  to  others.  This  is  a  misfor- 
tune too  late  to  retrieve,  and  almost  too  late  to  lament. 

I  am  heartily  glad  our  friends  has  cut  out  fresh  work 
for  you,  in  the  Epistle  to  Augustus  ;  and  on  this  account 
I  can  be  content  to  have  the  work  a  little  procrastinated. 

It  pleases  me  that  Mr.  Browne  knows  that  Mr.  Baiguy 
and  you,  as  well  as  I,  think  his  second  Essay  inferior  to 
the  first,  because  it  will  do  a  young  author,  who  appeared 
to  me  too  obstinate  in  this  matter,  some  good. 

I  thought  the  method  he  took  in  considering  the  defect 
of  Lord  Shaftesbury's  morality,  a  wrong  one.  You  will 
conclude,  too,  I  must  needs  think,  his  account  of  moral 
obligation^  a  wrong  one.  But  as  to  this,  I  told  him  he  must 
think  for  himself.  And  I  never  liked  a  friend  the  worse 
for  being  in  a  different  system.  In  answer  to  this,  he  said 
that  I  mistook  him  ;  and  that  when  he  speaks  of  happiness 
obliging^  he  used  obligation  only  in  the  sense  of  motive. 
This  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  write  to  him  as  follows  j 
and  so,  with  the  old  Casuists  liberavi  animam  meam, 

I  said — "  If  you  use  obligation  only  in  the  sense  of 
"  motive,  then  I  apprehend  Shaftesbury,  Clarke,  and 
"  WoUaston,  may  say  you  differ  not  from  them,  but  in  the 
"  use  of  a  different  term,  which  comes  to  the  same  thing, 

H 


58 

"  They  call  virtue — beautiful,  fit,  and  true,  for  the  very 
"  reason  you  call  it  beneficial:  namely,  because  it  produces 
"  happiness:  Therefore  when  they  saj',  the  beautt/,  the 
'•''  ftness,  the  truth  of  virtue  is  the  motive  for  practising  it,  they 
"•  say  the  very  thing  you  do,  as  referring  to  the  happiness 
"  of  which  virtue  is  productive.  Your  whole  controversy, 
"  therefore,  with  them,  is  that  very  logomachy,  or  strife 
"  about  words,  which,  in  the  beginning  of  this  part,  you 
"  ridicule,  and  object  to  those  who  have  gone  before  you. 

"  If,  on  the  other  hand,  by  motive  you  had  meant,  as  I 
'^  understood  you,  real  obligation,  you  must  still  needs  be 
"  in  the  wrong,  if  (as  you  hold)  Shaftesbury,  Clarke,  and 
"  Wollaston  be  so :  because,  like  them,  you  make  real 
"  obligation  to  arise,  as  they  do,  from  the  nature  of  virtue 
"  and  not,  as  their  rfo/ adversaries  do,  from  the  -will  of  a 
'■''superior.  For  their  real  adversaries  do  not  say  they 
''  are  wrong  in  making  it  arise  from  this  or  that  property  of 
"  virtue,  such  as  its  beauty,  its  fitness,  or  its  truth;  but  in 
"  their  making  it  arise  from  an  abstract  idea  at  all,-  or  in- 
"  deed  from  any  thing  but  personality,  and  the  will  of 
"  another;  different  and  distinct  from  the  person  obliged." 

I  agree  with  you  that  his  first  Essay  is  a  very  fine  one. 
It  is  entirely  his  own.  The  second  (inter  nosj  he  is  not 
master  of.  And  I  find  him  much  a  stranger  to  the  subject 
of  the  third.  It  was  from  what  I  had  seen  him  capable 
of  in  the  first  that  I  put  him  upon  this  work,  as  what  was  in 
his  profession,  would  be  acceptable  to  the  Clergy,  and  useful 
to  the  public.  I  now  find  it  would  have  been  better,  had  the 
project  been  laid  to  publish  the  first  Essay  alone ;  to  have  ta- 
ken more  time  for  the  other  two  ;  to  have  studied  the  subject 
well ;  and  above  all  to  have  taken  the  best  assistance  of  his 
friends.  Instead  of  this,  he  has  hurried  through  the  work 
with  great  precipitation,  which,  though  it  shews  the  quick- 
ness of  his  parts,  will  not  answer  the  end  I  proposed,  his 
honour  and  service.     1  hough  in  this  I  may  be  mistaken, 


59 

and  it  may  take  better  with  the  world,  than  if  it  had  been 
what  we  three  would  have  had  it. 

I  am  vastly  happy  in  what  you  tell  me  of  our  friend's 
and  your  approaching  journey  to  town.  I  do  not  at  pre- 
sent foresee  that  I  shall  leave  the  town  sooner  than  I 
thought  of.  Ifany  thing  happens  to  shorten  my  stay,  I  shall 
certainly  take  the  liberty  you  allow  me  of  letting  you  know, 
that  you  may  both  hasten  your  journey  a  little  sooner ; 
and  I  will  do  the  same  thing  for  you  another  time. 

I  have  ordered  a  little  packet  for  you.  It  is  two 
books  of  Julian,  one  for  yourself,  and  the  other  for  Mr. 
Mason. 


LETTER  XXXIV. 

Prior- Park,  July  11th,  1751. 

I  HAVE  your  kind  letter  of  the  6th.  I  am  glad  to 
understand  you  are  so  agreeably  circumstanced  as  you 
must  needs  be  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  company  of  a  young 
gentleman  of  great  hopes  so  related  to  you. 

Your  friendship  for  me  makes  you  infinitely  overvalue 
those  amusements,  which  the  fondness  for  the  works  of 
one  poet,  and  for  the  person  of  another,  engaged  me  in. 
And  though  I  have  not  the  pleasure,  which  a  consciousness 
that  those  things  are  what  you  call  them,  would  give  me, 
yet  I  have  a  much  greater,  the  assurance  that  what  you 
say  on  that  head  arises  from  the  prejudices  of  a  warm 
friendship  for  me. 

The  passage,  vol.  5.  p.  278.  is  justly  reprovable. 
The  word  Hutcheson  slipped  my  pen  before  I  was  aware. 
I  aimed  only  at  his  followers  or  disciples  now  of  Glasgow, 
by  whom  I  have  been  but  scurvily  used  ;  and  though  1 
was  told  it  was  by  the  example  of  their  Master,  yet    I 


60 

did  not  intend  to  give  him  a  personal  stroke  ;  though  his 
giving  so  much  vogue  to  Shaftesbury's  system  has  hurt  the 
science  of  Morals,  and  his  giving  so  much  credit  to 
Shaftesbury's  book  has  done  discredit  to   Keligion. 

I  am  glad  you  have  taken  notice  of  my  mention  of 
the  Ethicks  of  Epicurus^  vol.  1.  Since  I  find  you  have 
not  read  one  of  the  noblest  works  of  Philosophy  of  these 
latter  times,  Gassendi's  Philosophia  Kpicuri,  sive  Ani- 
madversiones  in  Lib.  X.  Diog.  Laertii.  It  is  in  three 
small  volumes  in  folio  ;  the  last  of  which  treats  de  Moribus 
Epiciiri,  where  he  has  shewn  the  injustice  of  the  other 
sects  (particularly  Tullv's)  in  their  representation  of  the 
Epicurean  morals.  You  will  read  this  volume  with  infi- 
nite pleasure.  And  vou  may  buy  all  three  (which  are 
very  elegantly  printed)  I  believe  for  little  more  than  three 
shillings :  so  just  a  value  does  this  learned  age  set  upon 
the  greatest  authors,  and  the  most  finished  compositions. 
But  you  must  take  this  along  with  you,  that  Gassendi,  a 
contemporary  of  Descartes,  and  piqued  at  his  fame,  set 
up  for  the  revivor  of  the  Epicurean  Philosophy,  in  what 
related  to  Physics  and  Morals ;  (you  may  be  sure  he  gives 
up  his  Metaphysics  ;)  so  that  you  are  to  expect  rather  an 
advocate,  in  many  instances,  than  a  fair  representer. 
But  this  observation  hasplace  chiefly  in  his  Physics. 

Your  account  of  Lord  Bolingl)roke  is  truly  entertaining. 
I  should  have  thought  that  he  spoke  his  sentiments,  or 
rather  his  taste  ;  for  he  who  can  call  Montesquieu's  Book 
of  The  Spirit  of  Laws  a  dishonour  to  the  French  genius, 
may  well  think  Middleton's  pamphlets  unparalleled;  but 
that  I  know  his  perpetual  railing  against  Montesquieu's 
Book  arose  from  his  having  spoke  slightly  of  Boling- 
broke's  genius  and  writings.  So  that  I  think,  with  you, 
he  extols  on  the  same  principle  that  he  depreciated — 
Mistake  him  not,  he  envies,  not  admires. 

I  imagine  you  have  not  received  the  last  letter  I  wrote 
to  you  to  Cambridge.     The  subject  was  only  to  desire 


61 

you  to  let  Mr.  Mason  know  that  I  have  reserved  a  set 
of  Pope's  works  for  him  ;  but  know  not  how  to  convey 
it  to  him.  I  should  desire  he  may  know  this,  that  he 
may  not  buy  one,  and  that  he  may  direct  where  it  shall 
be  sent  to  him  ;  for,  in  the  letter  he  favoured  me  with, 
he  does  not  give  me  any  light  how  he  is  to  be  direct- 
ed to. 

Mrs.   Allen  is  better,  though  so  extremely  weak,  that 
it  makes  her  case  very  doubtful. 


LETTER  XXXV. 

Prior- Park,  September  22^,  1751. 

I  HAVE  your  kind  letter  of  the  20th  of  last  mouth 
to  acknowledge. 

I  am  sorry  the  moials  of  Aristotle  have  suffered  any 
relaxation  at  Cambridge.  The  Laureat  indeed  says  they 
did  at  Oxf  >rd  ;  but  Scriblerus  observes,  that  this  was 
only  while  he  and  the  players  were  there.  But  you  are 
all   turned  players. 

I  forgot  to  mention  my  approbation  of  one  thing  you 
said  in  one  of  yours,  which  implied  your  contempt  for 
the  character  of  Atticus.  I  confess,  of  all  that  were 
ever  called  virtuous  men,  his  character  to  me  is  the  least 
amiable :  and  I  believe  neither  of  us,  though  we  might 
xvanty  could  esteem  such  a  friend.  And  yet  the  state  of 
modern  virtue  is  such,  that  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find  one 
in  this  degree  ;  I  mean  a  friend  that  would  really  serve 
you,  after  he  had  served  himself. 

You  gave  me  great  pleasure  in  letting  me  know  yoij. 
persevere  in  your  design  of  applying  yourself  to  the  no- 
blest studies.  And  you  have  the  more  merit  in  it,  after 
so  uncommon  success  in  a  study,  that  is  in  itself  infi- 


62 

nitely  agreeable  ;  and  in  which,  as  few  have  succeeded, 
as  in  die  right  study  of  Theology. 

I  believe  our  friend  Browne  has  both  sense  and  modesty 
enough  not  to  be  intoxicated  with  his  success.  I  envy  him 
one  quality  :  and  that  is,  bringing  his  notions,  and  his  com- 
positions, to  perfection  at  a  heat ;  for  I  believe  you  will 
find  his  second  edition  verbatim  the  same  with  the  first. 
For  my  own  part,  I  have  so  imperfect  an  idea  of  my  sub- 
ject, and  rough-cast  my  composition  so  loosely,  that  my 
works,  if  they  escape  damning,  are  yet  in  a  state  of  purga- 
tory ;  and  with  so  much  terrestrial  matter  about  them  that 
they  would  take  till  Plato's  great  year  to  purge  and  purify, 
had  I  time,  and  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  attend  to  them. 
I  believe  there  are  some  thousand  alterations  in  the  language 
only,  in  the  second  edition  of  Julian,  and  the  first  vo- 
lume of  the  Divine  Legation,  now  in  the  press,  is  so  trans- 
mogrified that  you  will  hardly  know  it  again.  Nor  is 
this  the  effect  of  modesty,  (which  would  be  some  com- 
fort,) but  of  pride,  and  the  having  more  respect  for  myself, 
than  the  public  :  who,  to  give  them  their  due,  are  not 
over  delicate — 

"  Curious,  not  knowing-,  not  exact,  but  nice." 

Besides,  I  have  often  thought,  that  they  esteem  it  a  kind 
of  insolence  to  alter  or  amend  what  they  have  stamped  with 
their  approbation.  On  which  account,  booksellers,  M'ho 
know  mankind,  for  the  general,  better  than  authors,  as 
having  long  experieisced  that  caprice  or  accident  always 
regulates  the  public  judgment,  would  never  by  their  good- 
will have  a  successful  book  made  better  in  the  second  edi- 
tion. For  they  have  often  known,  and  so  have  I  too,  a 
very  imperfect  book  cried  up  in  the  first  edition ;  and 
when  rendered  more  complete  in  tiie  second,  let  fall  again 
as  a  thing  of  no  notice. 

Mr.  Pope  used  to  tell  me,  that  when  he  had  any  thing 
better  than  ordinary  to  say,  and  yet  too  bold,  he  always 


63  ^ 

reserved  it  for  a  second  or  third  edition,  and  then  nobody 
took  any  notice  of  it. 

But  there  is  one  book,  and  that  no  large  one,  which 
I  would  recommend  to  your  perusal  ;  it  is  called,  "  The 
"  Theology  and  Philosophy  of  Cicero's  Somn.  Scip.  exa- 
"  mined."*  It  is  indeed  x\\&ne  plus  ultra  of  Hutchinsonian- 
ism.  In  this  twelve-penny  pamphlet  Newton  is  proved  an 
Atheist  and  a  Blockhead.  And  what  would  you  more  ? 

But  if  you  are  no  friend  to  supercelestial  flights,  but 
content  yourself  to  grovel  on  amidst  the  dregs  of  human 
reason,  I  would  recommend  to  your  more  serious  perusal  a 
little  French  book,  in  two  volumes  intituled,  "  Essai  sur 
"  I'origine  des  connoissances  humaines."  I  will  venture  a 
crown  that  you  have  never  seen  it,  because  it  is  wrote  in  a 
very  masterly  v/ay,  and  is  singularly  solid.  But  indeed  the 
time  in  which  it  was  published,  which  was  the  heat  of  our 
Rebellion,  may  something  excuse  us  for  the  obscurity  in 
which  it  lies.  You  will  find  him  greatly  beholden  to  Locke, 
and  you  will  think  this  a  merit  in  him,  that  he  knew  how 
to  make  so  good  a  choice.  I  would  particularly  recom- 
mend to  you  the  16th  chapter  (I  think  it  is,  for  it  was 
onl}'  put  into  my  hands  for  a  little  time  by  a  curious  person) 
of  the  second  part.  However,  you  may  know  it  by  these 
marks  :  it  is  a  long  one  ;  and,  amongst  other  things,  exa- 
mines this  question,  how  they  came  to  have  few  or  no  great 
natural  geniuses  in  the  barbarous  ages  between  the  fall  and 
revival  of  letters.  In  which  he  says  something  very  un- 
common and  curious,  and,  I  think  solid ;  which,  yet,  it 
will  not  be  easy  to  see  the  force  of,  without  understand- 
ing his  principles  in  the  first  volume. 

I  have  received  a  very  obliging,  and  fwhich  is  the  cha- 
racter of  the  writer)  an  excessive  modest  letter  from  Mr. 
Mason,  whom  I  suppose  you  will  have  again  shortly  at 
College. 

*  See  Life  of  Bishop  Home,  by  Mr.  \V.  Jones,  ]).  38.     // 


64 

I  had  forgot  to  tell  you  that  our  friend  Browne  is  now 
on  a  visit  (on  invitation)  at  Mr.  George  Lyttelton's.  It  is 
about  250  miles  from  him,  and  he  is  accompanied  by  his 
friend,  Dr.  Law,  as  far  as  Litchfield  j  who  takes  this  op- 
portunity to  visit  his  friend  the  Bishop  of  Litchfield  and 
Coventry.  Which  will  prove  the  better  Patron,  the  Layman 
ortheArch-priest,  for  an  even  wager?  And  you  shall  choose 
your  side.  I  think  they  might  as  well  have  gone  to  Hell  (I 
mean  the  Classical  Hell)  to  consult  Tiresias  in  the  ways  of 
thriving,  God  held  them  ;  for  they  are  a  couple  of  helpless 
creatures  in  the  ways  of  this  world  ;  and  nothing  to  bear 
their  charges  but  a  little  honesty,  which,  like  Don  Quix- 
ote's Chivalry,  will  pass  current  in  never  an  Inn  between 
Carlisle  and  London.  Those  who  have  the  noble  ambi- 
tion to  make  their  regular  stages^  must  dash  through 
thick  and  thin ;  must  be  soundly  bespattered;  and,  what 
to  an  ingenuous  mind  is  as  grievous, must  as  heartily  bespat- 
ter. But  they  deserve  no  pity.  What  is  hard,  is,  that 
such  travellers  as  yo'u  and  I,  who  pick  our  way,  and  would 
ride  at  our  ease;  who  fear  nothing  but  ht'm^  benighted  ; 
and  for  the  rest,  can  sleep  as  soundly  at  the  Thatched- 
Hoiise  as  at  the  Mitre  Inn ;  that  we  should  be  bespatter- 
ed by  the  busy,  dirty,  servile  rascals,  that  post  by  us,  and 
view  us  with  an  eye  of  jealousy  if  we  ride  briskly,  or  with 
contempt  if  we  saunter,  this  I  say  is  very  provoking. 
What  could  make  that  important  blockhead  (you  know 
whom)  preach  against  me  at  St.  James's?  He  never  met 
me  at  Court,  or  at  Powis  or  Newcastle-House.  And 
what  was  it  to  him  Avhether  the  Jews  had  a  future  life  ?  It 
might  be  well  for  such  as  him,  if  the  Christians  had  none 
neither.  Nor,  I  dare  say,  does  he  much  trouble  himself 
about  the  matter,  while  he  stands  foremost,  amongst  you, 
in  the  new  Land  of  promise ;  which,  however,  to  the  mor- 
tification of  these  modern  Jews,  is  a  little  distant  from  that 
perforinance. 


65  ^ 

Our  family  is  yet  at  Weymouth.  I  suppose  Michaelmas 
will  bring  them  home.  Mrs.  Allen  is  yet  miserably  in- 
firm. She  bathes,  I  hear,  in  the  salt  water,  and  they  say 
gathers  a  little  strength. 

P.  S.  At  page  468  of  the  first  volume  of  the  Divine  Le- 
gation, I  have  thoughts  of  adding  an  examination  of 
Plutarch's  reasoning  in  his  tract  of  Superstition,  the 
most  beautiful  declamation  of  all  antiquity. — Shaftes- 
bury, Bacon,  and  many  others,  seem  to  patronize  his 
reasoning,  which  is  one  of  the  most  ridiculous  string 
of  sophisms  throughout.  Now,  pray  tell  me  your 
mind.  Will  this  be  tajiti  P  You  must  understand  I 
intend  to  enlarge  the  6th  section  of  the  third  Book 
in  two  other  places — that  where  I  speak  of  Enthnsi- 
astfij  and  origin  of  Idolatry. 


jLETTER  XXXVI. 

Bedford-Row^  November  ISth^  175 i. 

I  HAVE  been  longer  in  your  debt  than  I  should  have 
been,  had  I  not  heard  that  you  was  out  of  College. — No- 
thing can  be  juster  than  your  reflections  on  the  fortune  and 
revolutions  of  Epicurus's  character. 

I  am  glad  for  what  you  tell  me,  that  you  are  revising 
your  two  manly  and  noble  pieces  of  Criticism.  But  you 
do  yourself  injustice  in  putting  yourself  under  a  certain 
predicament.  I  am  reading  over  again  your  notes  on  the 
Epistle  to  Augustus ;  and  am  come  to  the  95th  page,  and, 
with  all  my  caviling,  I  could  only  lay  my  finger  on  the 
following  : 


66 

Page  48 — "  they  had  a  thinness  and  subtilty  " — a  little 
equivocal.  Suppose — "  they  had  so  thin  and  impalpable 
a  contexture,"  or  some  such  thing. 

Dele  "to  gratify  their  impatient  curiosity  with  more 
matter."     For  humour,  r.  apprehensions. 

Page  95. 1.  13.  dele  "  hence" — so  much  for  that  matter. 
I  repeat  to  you  again,  your  criticisms  are  far  too  learned 
and  masterly  for  these  wonderful  times.  Learn  to  write 
like  Lord  Orrery  (whose  impression  of  Letters  concerning 
Swift  was  all  sold  in  a  day's  time,)  and  you  will  have 
readers  enough.  It  is  full  of  beauties  of  all  kinds.  His 
characters  of  men  is  not  the  least.  Ramus,  Thomas 
Aquinas,  and  Descartes,  were  thought  by  Hooker,  Grotius, 
and  Locke,  to  be  three  great  original  geniuses  ;  but  his 
Lordship  has  discovered  they  were  a  set  of  asses.  Nor 
should  his  great  improvements  in  Astronomy  be  overlook- 
ed. He  calculates  the  return  of  Comets  to  the  greatest  mi- 
nuteness. But  the  imperial  flower  of  speech,  the  sove- 
reign of  this  grove  of  delights,  is  what  the  French  call 
Galimatias. — But  seriously,  what  would  this  noble  Lord 
say  of  his  enemies,  when  he  drav/s  so  charming  a  picture 
oi  diablerie  from  his  friend  ?  Yet  he  himself  told  me  he  pur- 
sued that  friendship  so  sedulously,  that  he  suffered  num- 
berless indignities  from  Swift,  before  he  could  be  admit- 
ted to  any  degree  of  familiarity.  Perhaps  then  he  but  takes 
his  revenge  in  this  representation  ;  which,  however,  I  be- 
lieve a  true  one.  But  it  seems  a  strange  office  in  a  friend 
to  acquaint  the  public  with  such  truths.  But  all  this  i)iter 
nos. 

I  will  tell  you  another  piece  of  literary  news  more  worth 
your  attention.  Old  Fontenelle,  who  is  between  ninety  and 
a  hundred,  has  given  us  vtry  lately  two  volumes  of  Come- 
dies, written  many  years  ago,  and  intended  for  posthumous 
works  ;  but,  as  he  says  pleasantly,  his  length  of  life  has 
quite  exhausted  his  patience,  and  he  Avould  stay  no  longer. 


67 

The  Comedies  are  of  a  very  singular  cast.  Not  only  the 
scene  of  most  of  them  lies  in  antiquity;  but  great  person- 
ages, such  as  Princes  and  Princesses,  are  of  the  drama.  Yet 
it  is  not  that  foolish  sort  of  thing,  that  Moliere  called  gal- 
lant or  heroic  Comedy :  they  are  on  familiar  'subjects,  much 
in  Terence's  manner.  The  contrivance  of  the  action  is 
excellent,  nor  are  the  manners  ill  painted.  You  know  he 
excels  ill  dialogue,  by  what  you  see  in  those  of  the  Dead. 
The  Tyrant(ji\\  odd  title  for  a  Comedy^  is  full  of  pleasantry, 
and  yet  nothing  unnatural.  The  Abclohmine  gives  us  a  fine 
picture  of  the  manners;  and  the  Testament  is  very  pathetic, 
but  does  not  exceed  the  pathos  of  Comed)%  In  short, 
when  I  have  done  my  best,  I  can  give  you  but  a  faint  idea 
of  these  extraordinary  pieces.  You  must  read  them  to 
know  what  they  are.  He  has  a  long  Preface,  to  defend 
this  species  of  Coanedy.  He  advances  some  things  that 
are  false,  absurdly  ;  and  some  notable  things  that  are  true, 
obscurely ;  for  want  of  having  your  principles  :  and  some 
things  again,  that  you  could  apply  and  improve  to  support 
and  illustrate  your  principles.  I  don't  know  whether  you 
can  get  these  two  little  volumes,  or  whether  you  would 
care  to  buy  them  if  you  could  ;  therefore,  if  your  curiosity 
leads  you  to  desire  to  see  them,  I  can  satisfy  it,  and  send 
them  with  that  trifle  of  mine  you  desired  to  have,  by  your 
carrier.     I  leave  the  town  in  eight  or  ten  days. 

The  Bishop  of  Clogher,  or  some  such  heathenish  name, 
in  Ireland,  has  published  a  book.  It  is  made  up  out  of  the 
rubbish  of  old  Heresies  ;  of  a  much  ranker  cast  than  com- 
mon Arianism.  Jesus  Christ  is  Michael;  and  the  Holy 
Ghost,  Gabriel,  &c.  This  might  be  Heresy  in  an  English 
Bishop;  but  in  an  Irish,  'tis  only  a  blunder.  But,  thank 
God,  our  Bishops  are  all  far  from  making  or  vending  Here- 
sies ;  though  for  the  good  of  the  church,  they  have  excel- 
lent eyes  at  spying  it  out  whenever  it  skulks  or  lies  hid. 

I  need  not  tell  you  any  thing  of  our  friend  Mr.  Mason's 
affair  about  his  Elfrida.     He  has  told  you,  I  make  no  doubt, 


68 

what  has  passed  between  us  conceruing  it.     But  I  wonder 
I  don't  hear  from  him  again. 


lj:tter  XXXVII. 

I    HAVE    yours  of  the  28th  past  to    acknowledge. 

Your   account  of   B is  very    entertaining.      He 

began  his  metaphysical  course  with  licking  up  the  drivel 
of  the  Hoadleians  ;  but  has  now  set  up  for  himself,  though 
with  this  mortifying  circumstance,  that,  like  the  Orator 
Henley,  nobody  will  dispute  with  him. 

Pray  what  is  Mr.  Mason  doing  ?  Mr.  Knapton  wrote 
me  word  not  long  since  that  he  had  received  no  copy  from 
him.  I  think  he  has  in  all  respects  judged  right,  to  give 
his  poem  to  the  public  as  a  classical  performance :  and  it  is 
not  impossible  but  that  those  who  had  been  most  averse  to 
have  seen  it  brought  on  the  stage  the  ordinary  way,  may 
be  clamorous  for  its  appearance  there,  some  time  or  other, 
in  their  own  way. 

As  great  a  critic  as  you  are,  I  believe  your  patience 
would  not  suffer  you  to  read  those  detestable  Letters  on 
poor  Swift  in  such  a  manner  as  to  discover  the  hundredth 
part  of  the  offences  against  common  sense  and  science, 
that  may  be  met  with  in  them.* 

In  the  Memoirs  of  the  Academic  Royale  des  Inscriptions 
tome  8m*^  of  the  Amsterdam  edition  in  8vo.  but  which, 
with  the  Histoire,  make  the  11th  volume,  there  is  a  dis- 
sertation stir  Putilite  de  Vimitatioyx^  et  sur  la  ?7ianiere  dont 
on  doit  imiter — by  Racine,  the  son  of  the  Poet.  It  is  but 
a  short  one,  but  after  yours  I  had  not  the  curiosity  to  read 
it.     But,  as  you  may,  I  just  mention  it  to  you. 

*  A  copy  of  these  Letters,  with  Mr.  Warburton's  free  animadversions  upoo 
them,  entered  on  the  margin  in  his  own  hand,  may  be  seen  in  Hartkbnry 
Librarv.     // 


69 

I  suppose  we  shall  have  Dr.  Middle  ton's  works  30on» 
I  question  whether  the  bookseller  does  not  repent  of  his 
project  ere  now,  his  subscribers  are  so  lew  and  slow. 
And  the  great  Patron  of  them  too  is  gone,  which  will  be 
another  drawback.  I  think  he  did  Midd'v  ton  no  more 
than  justice  in  preferring  him  to  himself,  jbor  where  the  ; 
chief  merit  in  two  writers  lies  in  sa3'ing  common  things 
well,  I  shall  always  prefer  him  who  says  tiiem  v/ith  sim- 
plicity and  ease,  to  him  who  delivers  iiie.n  with  pomp  and 
solemnity.  I  believe  I  have  lost  an  enemy  in  Lord 
Bolingbroke.  I  am  sure,  Religion,  and  the  State,  has. 
I- question  whether  we  shall  see  any  of  his  MSS.  His 
"  Apology  for  his  Public  Conduct,"  which  I  have  seen, 
affects  too  many  parties,  to  see  the  light ;  and  his  apology 
for  his  private  opinions  would  shock  the  people  too  much, 
as  dissolute  as  they  are  now  grown.  His  "  Letttrs  con- 
"  cerning  the  use  of  reading  history,"  (the  best  of  his 
works,  as  his  "  Patriot  King,"  I  think,  is  the  worst,)  I  . 
suppose  we  shall  see,  because  here  are  printed  copies  of 
it  in  several  hands.  It  is  iu  two  volumes,  8vo.  It  was 
this  work  which  occasioned  his  aversion  to  me.  There  is 
a  dissertation  in  it  against  the  canon  of  Scripture,  which  I 
told  Mr.  Pope  was  full  of  absurdities  and  false  reasoning, 
and  would  discredit  the  work  :  and,  at  his  desire,  I  drew 
up  a  paper  of  remarks  upon  it,  which  Lord  Bolingbroke 
never  forgave.  He  wrote  an  answer  to  it  with  great 
wrath  and  much  acrimony ;  but,  by  the  persuasion  of  a 
great  man,  suppressed  it.  It  is  possible  it  may  now  see 
the  light.  The  paper  it  was  an  ausv.er  to,  was  drawn  up 
one  summer's  afternoon,  as  Mr.  Pope  sat  by  me,  with- 
out taking  my  hand  from  the  table  till  it  was  done,  so  that, 
as  it  contained  several  sheets,  you  will  easily  believe  he 
had  advantage  enough  of  me. 

All  here   are   glad  to  hear  of  your  health,  and   desire 
their  best  respects  to  you.     Mrs.  Allen  continues  grov,-ing 


70 

better,  but  is  yet  Very  infirm  of  body.  My  wife  bids  me 
tell  you  she  would  not  be  second  to  any  one  in  her  good 
opinion  of  you.  And  you  know,  I  hope,  how  much  I 
am,  &c. 

Prior-Park^  December  29fA,  1751. 


LETTER  XXXVIII. 

I  HAVE  the  favour  of  your  very  kind  letter  of  the 
30th  past,  while  one  from  me  was  travelling  to  you  on 
the  road. 

Is  not  there  something  very  original  in  Fontenelle's 
prose  comedies  ?  I  mean  with  respect  to  the  modern 
Drama.  For  I  think  them  a  fine  and  very  singular  copy 
of  the  ancient.  And  though  I  be  not  such  an  idolizer  of 
antiquity  as  Harris,  yet  they  have  great  charms  for  me. 
The   Abdolomine  is,  properly  speaking,  the  master-piece. 

As  to  the  preface,  he  has  struck  out  some  curious  hints, 
but  he  has  the  view  of  his  subject  only  through  a  mist. 
It  greatly  more  confirms,  than  opposes,  your  system.  But 
what  will  be  of  chief  use  is,  that  it  will  be  able  to  excite 
new  ideas  in  you  to  perfect  your  subject.  You  please  me 
more  than  you  can  conceive  in  your  new  project  of  making 
your  note  on  the  Drama  into  a  dissertation  for  the  first 
volume  ;  and  the  importance,  and,  as  it  is  handled,  the 
novelty  of  the  subject,  requires  it  should  be  thrown  into  a 
form  of  more  dignity.  Spare  no  pains,  and  go  upon  it  di- 
rectly. I  will  be  to  you  instead  of  Moliere's  eld  woman  , 
for  I  find  I  am  growing  into  one  apace. 

I  think  you  have  altered  our  friend's  scheme  to  much 
advantage.  Less  precision  is  expected  when  we  address 
the  public  obliquely,  than  when  directly.     And  the  novel- 


ty  is  rather  an  advantage.  For  a  preface  is  held  so  much 
a  thing  in  course,  that  it  is  generally  passed  over  unready 
as  matter  of  form. 

You  surprise  me  when  you  tell  me  you  had  not  much 
considered  the  Philosophy  of  Grammar,  after  having 
given  such  proofs  of  so  masterly  criticism.  But  it 
will  be  a  pleasure  to  you  to  know  that  you  may  con- 
sider it,  if  you  please,  in  a  very  masterly  work,  the 
Grammaire  genei'ale  et  raisojinee.  It  comes  from  the  peo- 
ple of  Port  Royal ;  but  while  they  were  Divines,  and 
Philososophers,  and  Critics,  and  long  before  they  became 
Schismatics,  and  Fanatics.  It  is  a  little  book,  which  vou 
may  buy  upon  any  stall  for  six-pence  j  while  one  of  Tom 
Hearne's  Monks  will  cost  you  ten  or  twenty  shillings. 
Harris  speaks  coldly  in  favour  of  it ;  but  I  wonder  how 
he  happened  to  speak  in  favour  of  it  at  all.  He  is  exact- 
ly the  writer  you  describe — no7v  to  sense^  noxv  nonsense 
leanings  just  as  Antiquity  inclines  him. 

Pray  do  you  know  Byrom's  character  ?  or  have  you  seen 
his  two  epistles,  one  a  year  or  two  ago  on  occasion  of 
Sherlock's  book  of  Prophecies,  and  the  other  just  now, 
on  Enthusiasm  ?  He  is  certainly  a  man  of  genius,  plunged 
deep  into  the  rankest  fanaticism.  His  poetical  epistles 
shew  him  both  j  which,  were  it  not  for  some  unaccount- 
able negligences  in  his  verse  and  language,  would  shew  ur. 
that  he  has  hit  upon  the  right  style  for  familiar  didactic 
epistles  in  verse.  He  is  very  libellous  upon  me  \  but 
I  forgive  him  heartily,  for  he  is  not  malevolent,  but 
mad. 

January  2d,  1751 — 2. 


79 


LETTER  XXXIX. 


Prior-Park^   January  Sth^  17 SO — 1. 
I  NOW  persecute  you  with  my  letters.     But   this   is 
written  at  the  desire  of  Mr.   Charles  Yorke,  who  is  now 
with  me,  to  make  his  best  compliments  to  you,  and  to  let 
you  know  how  sincerely  he  esteems  you.     We  read  over 
together  last  night  your  discourse  on   the    Drama.     You 
cannot   conceive  how  greatly  taken  he  is   with    it.     He 
esteems  ii  a  master-piece  ;  and,  when  I  told  him  you  in- 
tended to  improve  it,  he  said  you  might  enlarge  it,  but 
he  could  not  see  how  you  could  much  improve  it.     But  he 
made  two  observations,  which  he  desired  me  to  communi- 
cate  to  3^ou  ;  the  first  in  p.  79 — "  Add  to  this  that  when 
"  the  imagined  end^''  &c.    he  thinks  this    paragraph  ob- 
scure, and  that  obscurity  arises  from  your  using  itnagined 
end  for  action :  p.  95,  last  part — he  thinks  you  should  il- 
lustrate  the  fault,  you  there  detect,  of  mixing  Comedy 
and  Farce,  by  the  example  of  Moliere  or  Ben  Jonson,  or 
both,  who  have  miried   Farce  more  or  less   in  almost   all 
their   best  Comedies ;  but   these   Comedies  are  better  or 
worse,  according  to  the  less  or  greater  quantity  of  Farce. 
Moliere  has    some   quite  free,  as  the  Tar  tuff  and    Mis- 
anthrope ;  if  Jonson  has  any  fi-ee,it  is  the  Alchemist  j   Mr. 
Yorke  thinks,  the  Volpone,  I  think  not. — Sir  Pol's  Tor- 
toise is  farcical. 


LETTER  XL. 

I  HAVE  your  favour  of  the  10th.  Mr.  Charles  Yorke 
who  is  much  your  servant,  has  just  left  us. 

As  to  Byrom's  notion  of  enthusiasm,  I  agree  with  him 
in  this,  that  it  is  foolish  to  confine  the  passion  to  Religion, 


T3 

when  it  spreads  through  all  human  life :  but  I  disagree 
with  him  in  supposing  an  intense  application  of  the  mind 
to  any  object,  is  enthusiasm.  If  I  were  to  define  it,  I 
would  say  it  is  such  an  irregular  exercise  of  it  as  makes 
us  give  a  stronger  assent  to  the  conclusion^  than  the  evi- 
dence of  the  premises  will  warrant : — then  reason  begins 
to  be  betrayed,  and  then  enthusiasm  properly  commences. 
This  shews  why  enthusiasm  is  more  frequent  in  religious 
matters  than  in  any  other ;  for  those  interests  being  very 
momentous,  the  passions  bear  the  greatest  sway,  and 
reason  is  the  least  heard.  This,  too,  detects  the  sophism 
of  Byrom's  epistle.  You  define  an  epic  poem  (by  calling 
it  a  desperate  undertaking)  as  well  as  the  Quack  did  a 
fever  before  the  College  of  Physicians,  when  he  called  it 
a  distemper  they  could  not  cure.  My  wife,  (who  by  the 
way  says  you  are  a  Courtier,)  to  whom  I  read  what  you  say 
of  this  2d  book,*  bids  me  tell  you,  that  \ht  fresh  gale  you 
mention  is  very  refreshng  to  her :  that  she  has  been  so 
long  fatigued  with  a  variety  of  storms^  or  dead  calms, 
in  poems  and  romances,  that  she  would  give  any  money 
for  a  good  gentle  breeze. 

1  have  just  received  our  amiable  friend's  letters,  which 
are  to  be  prefixed  to  his  Elfrida.  Nothing  could  be  bet- 
ter imagined  than  the  form  into  which  he  has  put  his 
observations.  The  matter  is  in  the  French  mode,  effleurCy 
but  so  agreeably  and  so  sensibly  conducted,  that  I  am 
sure  it  is  fitter  for  the  public,  than  a  more  profound  re- 
cherche. I  can  give  him  a  better  picture  for  the  illustra- 
tion of  his  subject  than  Le  Brun's  Slaughter  of  the  Inno- 
cents. It  is  the  famous  Belisarius  of  Vandyke,  at  Lord 
Burlington's,  where  there  is  a  spectator^  an  assistant 
figure^  exactly  for  his  purpose.  Belisarius  is  sitting  blind 
upon  a   bank,  begging  of  some  passengers,  who   afford 

*  0f  Bratus,  Mr.  Browne's  epic  poem.     H. 
K 


74 

their  assistance.  A  commander,  as  he  passes  by,  ob- 
serves  this  distressful  scene.  You  see  him  stop ;  his 
casque  thrown  upon  the  ground;  his  hands  folded,  and, 
in  his  countenance,  all  the  disgust  at  his  profession, 
arising  from  his  view  of  this  miserable  reverse  of  military 
glory. — With  regard  to  the  Athaliah  of  Racine,  pray  tell 
him  that  I  think  he  will  find  in  young  Racine's  life  of  his 
Father  a  more  exact  account  of  the  fate  of  that  play, 
and  more  to  his  purpose. — But  when  I  have  examined 
the  letters  more  carefully,  I  will  communicate  what  I  have 
further  to  say  of  them  to  our  friend  himself;  whom  how- 
ever I  hope  I  shall  find,  in  a  short  time,  in  town. 

Apropos.  I  and  my  wife  set  forward  for  London  to-mor- 
row ;  from  whence  J  propose  to  return  hither  about  the 
18th  of  February.  And  I  will  tell  you  what  the  family 
are  all  now  thinking  of — ^that  possibly  I  may  have  interest 
enough  with  you  to  come  to  London  to  us,  and  accompany 
us  down  hither.  We  have  a  corner  in  our  coach  for  you^ 
and  one  of  my  servants  can  ride  your  horse.  I  am  sensi- 
ble that  your  turn  at  Whitehall  is  not  till  Spring,  and  con- 
sequently, that  business  may  confine  you  much  where  you 
are :  which  is  the  reason  I  have  marked  the  precise  time 
of  our  return,  that  you  may  take  your  own  time  in  coming 
to  us  at  London,  though  the  sooner  the  better  :  and  by 
that  time  you  grow  tired  of  Prior-Park,  your  preaching- 
time  may  approach,  and  you  will  not  have  a  great  deal  fur- 
ther to  go  from  hence  to  London,  than  from  Cambridge  to 
London.  I  need  not  tell  you,  who  have  seen  Mr.  Allen, 
the  '  pleasure  it  will  give  us  all  if  this  can  be  done  to  your 
convenience. 

Adieu,  my  dear  friend  ;  and  believe  that  wherever 
you  and  I  are,  whether  together  or  at  a  distance,  you  have 
A  sincere  friend  in  your  faithful  servant. 

Pyior-Furk,  Januunj  \^th,  1751—2. 


LETTER  XLI. 

Prior-Park,  March  25th^  1752< 
1  THANK  you  for  your  kind  letter  of  the  18th. 
The  Solicitor,  I  find,  uses  the  word  University^  as  the 
I^omish  Clergy  do  the  word  Church,  to  signify  themselves, 
exclusive  of  those  who  in  reality  make  both  one  and  the 
other.  But  you  have  lived  in  the  world  to  a  fine  purpose, 
not  no  know,  that,  at  this  very  day,  the  Church  resides  at 
Lambeth,  and  the  University  in  Lincoln's-Inn  Fields. 
Many  a  good  Christian  is  like  to  live  and  die  without  the 
pale  of  the  Church  ;  and  many  a  learned  Academic  to 
remain  unmatriculated. 

Bolingbroke's  "  Letters  on  History,"  you  know,  I  had 
read  formerly.  But  it  was  eight  or  nine  years  ago,  and 
I  had  forgot  every  word  he  had  said  against  the  Canon, 
as  well  as  every  word  I  had  said  for  it ;  which  made  me 
anxious  about  the  fate  of  that  scrub  paper  which  I  had  so- 
foolishly  scribbled,  and  in  so  much  hurry.  But  the  perusal 
of  the  book  has  set  me  at  rest.  You  will  know  why, 
■when  I  tell  you  I  heartily  wish  that  all  who  hereafter 
shall  be  so  weak  or  so  wicked  to  write  against  Revelation, 
may  write  just  like  this  formidable  politician,  I  must  laugh 
with  you,  as  I  have  done  with  our  friend  Balguy,  for  one 
circumstance.  His  Lordship  has  abused  the  Lawyers  as 
heartily  as  he  has  done  the  Clergy :  only  with  this  differ- 
ence, he  is  angry  with  us  for  using  Metaphysics,  and  with 
them  for  not  using  it.  I  know  why.  He  has  lost  many 
a  cause  in  a  Court  of  Justice,  because  the  Lawyers  would 
not  interpret  his  no  facts  into  metaphysical  ones  ;  and  been 
defeated  in  many  an  argument  in  conversation,  because 
Divines  would  not  allow  that  true  metaphysics  ended  in 
naturalis7n,  I  myself,  who  am  but  in  my  elements,  a  mere 
Ens  Rationis,  simply  distilled,  have  dismounted  him  ere 
now. 


jNothing  has  pleased  me  more  a  long  time  than  your 
visiting  the  Bishop  of  London  and  Mr.  Charles  Yorke, 
and  the  kind  reception  you  met  with  from  both.  I  know 
they  both  truly  honour  your  parts  and  virtues.  I  would 
have  you  cultivate  your  acquaintance  with  them ;  they  are 
both  worthy  of  your  assiduity.  They  both  love  learning 
and  virtue.  And  don't  you  remember  the  proverb — A 
good  xvord  at  Court  is  better  than  a  penny  in  the  purse. 

At  Mr.  Allen's  desire,  I  acqmunt  vou  with  all  our 
motions  from  this  time  to  Christmas  next.  From  hence 
to  that  time  the  family  will  be  always  here,  (where  yoii 
may  be  sure  you  will  be  alwavs  welcome,)  except  in  the 
months  of  June,  August,  and  to  the  middle  of  September. 
The  times  I  myself  shall  be  absent,  during  that  period, 
are  from  the  middle  of  April  to  the  latter  end  of  June,  and 
the  month  of  November. 


LETTER    XLIL 

THE  inclosed*  (so  uncommon  a  mark  of  your  partiali- 
ty and  friendship  for  me)  must  needs,  you  will  believe, 
if  I  have  any  modesty,  very  much  confound  me,  and,  if  I 
have  any  sense,  shew  me  what  my  criticisms  ought  to 
have  been,  not  what  they  are.  Yet  for  all  that,  what 
between  the  vanity  of  being  praised  by  such  a  writer,  and 
the  willingness  of  lying  under  obligations  to  such  a  friend, 
I  will  confess  my  weakness  in  tilling  you  how  much 
satisfaction  the  groundless  part  of  it,  that  which  relates 
to  myself,  gave  me  ;  for  as  to  the  other  part,  which  is  new, 
solid  and  perfecdy  well  said,  it  will  give  all  the  world 
satisfaction. 

*  Dedication  of  the  Epistle  to  Augustus.    H. 


77 

Your  desiring  to  see  my  discourse  on  Plutarch  made  me 
iaugh,  though  I  should  rather  have  blushed,  for  my  boast- 
ing of  a  thing,  which  yet  is  unfinished,  that  is,  only  one 
third  part  drawn   out,  and  the   other  two,  amongst  which 
is  the  passage  in  question,  only  planned,  and  the  canvass 
of  it  put  upon  paper;  and  both  one   and  the  other  are  at 
Prior- Park.     I  will  endeavour  to  make  myself  a  litde  better 
understood.     Amongst  the   several  sophisms  of  Plutarch's 
comparison  between  Atheism  and  Superstition,  this  is  one  v 
where  he  speaks  of  the  actual  (not  potential)  effects  of  each^ 
instead  of  considering    what  atheistical  and  superstitious 
men  have  ever  done  since  there  were  two  such  characters, 
he  only  tells  us   what  are  the  natural  effects  of  two   such 
passions  in  the  abstract,  simple,  and  unmixed,  which  they 
never  are  in  the  concrete ;  and  would   persuade   us  that 
what  such  simple  passions  naturally  produce,  they  do  pro- 
duce in  those  men  in  whom  they  are  found  to  be  the  reign- 
ing passions.     In  this  consists  the  sophistry ;  but  I  rather 
suppose  he  imposed  unknowingly  on  himself,  than  design- 
edly on  his  reader.     And  this  I  proposed  to  illustrate   in  a 
note  by    the   conduct   of  dramatic  poets,  who    instead   of 
drawing  the  covetous  man,  the  extravagant  man,  drew  sim- 
ple avarice,  and  extravagance,  unmixed :  and  there  being 
no  such  thing  in  nature,  their  drawings  become  unnatural  J 
monsters  of  their  own   imagination,  of  which  there  are  no 
archetypes.  This  is  more  professedly  done  in  the  two  plays 
I  named  :  but  more  or  less  in  every   writer  who  has  given 
plays  of  character^  even  Moliere  not  excepted. 

When  I  mentioned  this  to  you,  to  be  taken  notice  of  in 
your  discourse  on  the  Drama,  I  did  not  mean  it  for  a 
correction  of  any  part  of  it,  but  for  an  addition  ;  it  will  not 
serve  to  make  your  discourse  more  correct,  but  more  com- 
plete. And  I  think  it  too  considerable  to  be  omitted.  I 
dare  say  you  now  understand  my  whole  meaning;  but  if 
you  be  diffident,  and  yet  approve  the  addition,  it  is  only 


78 

sending  it  me  when  you  have  drawn  it  out,  and  perhaps  it 
may  start  new  hints  to  me  on  the  subject,  that  may  make 
it  more  to  your  mind. 

You  have  not  yet  told  me  what  time  this  summer  we  may 
hope  to  see  you  at  Prior-Park.  I  gave  you  by  Mr.  Allen's 
directions,  the  carte  dupais^  that  you  might  accommodate 
your  route  to  your  best  convenience. 

Bedjord-Roxv^  April  29th.,  1752. 


LETTER  XLIir. 

Bedford-Roxv.,  May  9tii^  1752. 
A  KIND  letter  I  received  from  you  this  morning  re- 
minded me  that  I  should  have  wrote  to  you  before,  to 
convey  a  word  or  two,  by  you,  to  Mr.  Mason.  You  know 
how  the  thing  stands  Avith  his  Northern  Lord,  and  you 
know  my  sentiment  on  it.  A  little  after  Mr.  Mason  had 
left  us,  Mr.  Charles  Yorke,  who  is  willing  to  do  all  ob- 
liging offices  to  my  friends,  as  well  as  ready  to  do  justice 
to  merit,  chanced  to  mention  that  afi'air.  He  said  he  had 
met  the  Earl  of  Rockingham  at  some  public  place,  and 
complimented  him  on  his  disposition  to  Mr.  Mason, 
and  thence  took  an  opportunity  of  saying  what  he  thought 
most  advantageous  of  him.  What  passed  of  this  kind  is 
of  little  moment ;  only  I  could  find  by  it,  that  all  who 
had  spoke  of  Mr.  Mason  to  Lord  Rockingham  had 
neither  been  so  candid  nor  so  generous  as  Mr.  Yorke. 
The  thing  most  material  is,  to  let  Mr.  Mason  know  Mr. 
Yorke's  opinion  of  the  invitation ;  and  1  am  the  rather  obli- 
ged to  it,  as  Mr.  Yorke's  is  different  from  mine.  He 
thinks  Mr.  Mason  is  likely  to  attach  that  Lord's  liking  to 
him,  as  he  is  a  young  nobleman  of  elegance,  and  loves  music 
i^nd  painting.     His  interest  too,  he  says,  is  as  weighty  as 


any  great  man's  can  be  who  is  not  likely  to  turn  to  busi- 
ness :  and  in  a  word  thinks  Mr.  Mason  should  not  refuse 
the  offer.  I  said  to  him  all  on  the  other  side  I  had  said  to 
Mr.  Mason,  and  we  parted  like  two  of  Tully's  disputants. 
He  seemed  willing  I  should  tell  you,  to  acquaint  your 
friend  with  what  passed. 

It  gives  me  great  pleasure,  that  you  have  fixed  your 
time  for  seeing  us:  and  so  it  will  all  our  family,  and  you 
have  rightly  chosen  the  finest  season  of  the  year  for  an  ex- 
cursion. I  am  so  indolent  and  so  irresolute,  that  I  remain  at 
present  under  a  total  uncertainty  whether  I  shall  stay  where 
I  am  to  the  middle  of  June,  or  whether  I  shall  go  ten  days  | 
hence  into  Lincolnshire.  If  I  do  that,  I  shall  not  return.  | 
to  London  at  Trinity  term ;  but  cross  the  country  back  to  \ 
Prior-Park.  But  you  shall  be  troubled  with  an  account 
©fall  my  motions.  And  Mr.  Towne  shall  know,  one  way 
or  other,  what  you  think  of  him.  You  could  not  do  him 
more  real  honour  than  by  distinguishing  him  from  that 
detestable  crowd  of  one's  acquaintance  who  have  their 
principles  to  seek,  and  their  opinions  to  choose  j  those^  as 
it  pleases  chance,  and  these,  as  their  interest  varies.  You 
are  so  much  the  man  after  my  own  heart  that  all  your  sen- 
timents give  me  the  picture  of  my  own  mind. 

You  say  very  truly,  and  with  admirable  discernment,  of 
Voltaire,  that  not  only  the  species*  of  writing  is  wrong  and 
absurd,  but  that  he  has  executed  it  poorly  though  spe- 
ciously. His  first  volume  I  think  the  best.  The  anec- 
dotes in  the  second  are  too  trifling,  and  the  Politico-theolo- 
gical dissertations  on  Calvinism,  Jansenism,  Quietism,  &c. 
below  all  criticism.  But  they  are  as  well  received  by  the 
great  vulgar,  as  Lord  Orrery's  immortal  book  was  by  the 
small.    Yet  don't  mistake  me.    It  would  be  a  kind  of  lite- 


*  That  of  writing  history  in  favourite  detached  parts  ;  such  as  the  Hevolv- 
tiom  oi  y  cviot,  aud  \h&  Siecle  of  Louis  XIV.  by  Voltaire.    H. 


80 

rary  protanation  to  compare  the  English  author  to  the 
French.  Voltaire  has  fine  jiarts,  and  is  a  real  genius  ; 
the  other  is  the  worst  writer  that  ever  defiled  fair  paper. 

I  have  thoughts  of  sending  you  very  shortly  a  specimen 
of  my  volume  of  Sermons,  to  have  your  and  Mr.  Balguy's 
free  thoughts  on  them.  You  shall  see  the  first  four.  To  tell 
you  truly,  and  without  affectation,  I  don't  know  what  to 
think  of  them.  If  you  think  as  diffidently  as  I  do,  pray  tell 
me  so,  and  I  will  make  short  work :  for  the  shortest  folly  is 
the  best.  I  think  to  send  all  that  will  be  printed,  which 
will  be  the  four  first.  Two  are  in  the  common  way,  of 
choosing  a  text  to  give  one  an  opportunity  of  saying  what 
one  wants  to  say :  the  other  two  are  in  what  I  think  a 
better,  the  explanation  of  the  text. 

P.  S.  Pray  tell  our  friend  Mr.  Balguy  how  obliged  I  am 
to  him  for  his  last  kind  letter,  which  I  shall  acknowledge 
very  soon. 


LETTER  XLIV. 

THE  Printer  would  not  enable  me  to  perform  my 
promise  in  sending  four  sermons ;  and  you  will  be  tired 
enough  with  these  three  :  besides  the  fourth  was  only  a 
kind  of  corollary  of  the  third. 

Pray  do  you  and  Mr.  Balguy  exercise  your  judgment 
freely  on  tiiem ;  and,  to  encourage  you,  let  me  tell  you 
lam  not  blind  to  all  their  faults.  The  first  1  think  too 
superficial,  and  in  some  parts  (which  makes  siiperficiaUtif 
an  inexcusable  fault)  not  very  clear.  The  last  hc-ad  of  the 
second  sermon,  I  fear,  is  a  little  cloudy.  The  uses  in  the 
third  sermon  are  too  sliort  and  abruptly  delivered. 


81 

The  most  sensible  thing  Garth  ever  said,  he  said  to  his 
enemies,  "  that  for  every  fault  they  discovered  in  his 
"  writings,  he  would  shew  them  two."  I  can  safely  say,  I 
will  shew  them  two  hundred  in  mine  for  every  single  fault 
my  enemies  are  ever  likely  to  find  out. — It  was  odd,  as 
you  observe,  that  Voltaire  should  translate  the  line  from 
Pope,  as  it  is  in  the  last  edition.  I  persuaded  the  latter 
to  alter  Miracles  to  Prodigies^  not  only  for  the  religion,  but 
the  reason  of  the  thing.  It  was  not  only  declaring  against 
miracles,  but  it  was  arguing  inconclusively  :  prodigies 
being  natural  effects,  whose  causes  we  being  ignorant  of, 
we  have  made  them  ideal  creatures  of  a  distinct  species  : 
as  soon  as  we  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  causes,  pro- 
digies are  no  longer  a  distinct  species,  but  rank  with  all 
other  natural  effects.  But  it  is  7io  consequence  that  when 
nature  is  known  no  miracles  remain ;  because  miracles 
imply  supernatui"al  effects,  therefore  these  are  consistent 
with  the  whole  knowledge  of  nature.  Yet  this  was  one  of 
the  speciosa  dictata  of  Bolingbroke,  who  was  fond  of  the 
impiety,  and  yet  did  not  see  the  blunder. 

Don't  you  remember  I  predicted  to  you  what  would  be 
the  fortune  of  Dr.  Middleton's  posthumous  works, 
unless  the  town  had  them  like  their  mackerel,  while 
their  mouths  were  just  in  relish  ?  They  have  not  waited 
long  ;  yet  Manby  tells  me  he  has  not  sold  three  hundred 
of  the  separate  volume  in  which  they  are  contained. 
And  yet  these  are  as  well  written  as  any  thing  he  published 
himself. 

LETTER  XLV. 

I  MAKE  all  proper  abatement  for  the  judgment  your 
friendship  dictates.  It  is  enough  for  me  that  a  volume 
of  these  things  will  be  just  worth  printing.  The  fifth 
sermon,  which  will  be  on  the  character  and  office  of  the  Son^ 
.and  the  sixth,  on  the  office  and  operation  of  the  Holif  Spirit ^ 


82 

will  be  rather  tracts,  than  sermons.  I  shall  have  there 
occasion  to  consider  the  hypothesis  of  MidcUeton  about 
prophecy,  so  far  as  he  contradicts  the  Bishop  of  I^ondon, 
and  Hkewise  his  notion  of  inspiration  of  Sciipture,  and 
the  gift  of  tongues  on  the  day  of  Pentecost.  But  it  will 
be  but — tel  quel.  The  seventh  perhaps  will  be,  of  the  na- 
ture of  the  Lord''s  Supper^  in  which  I  pretend  to  overthrow 
the  principles  of  the  Plain  Account^  and  upon  his  own 
terms,  which,  I  think,  has  not  yet  been  done — But  do 
you  think  I  can  be  very  proud  of  what  I  can  do,  when  I 
read  attentively,  as  I  have  oft  done,  your  discourse  of 
Imitation,  and  written  at  your  years  ! 

Dodsley's  editors  intended  to  fritter  my  discourse  on 
Virgil's  sixth  Book  into  notes,  which  I  could  not  hinder 
but  by  allowing  them  to  transcribe  it  entire.  But  I  have 
done  like  common  offenders  when  they  are  taken,  impeach- 
ed my  friends  and  accomplices.  I  have  discovered  to 
them  where  two  excellent  notes  are  hid,  on  a  passage  in 
the  third  Georgic  ;  which  they  have  seized  upon  with  great 
eagerness.  The  truth  of  the  matter  is,  I  suppose  this 
edition  of  Virgil  will  be  but  a  gallimaufry  ;  (from  one  con- 
cerned in  the  direction  of  it,  Spencc^  who  is  an  extreme 
poor  creature,  and  has  met  his  reward,  as  all  such  do  ;) 
and  I  was  willing  to  have  you  in  with  me  to  keep  me  in 
countenance. 

Bedford-Roxv^  Maij  20///,   1752. 


LETTER  XLVI. 

1  HAVE  your  favour  of  two  kind  letters  to  acknow- 
ledge. 

Though  you  seem  to  be  satisfied  as  to  the  objection  in  p. 

22  of  the  Sermons,  yet  I  think  it   so  well    founded,  that. 


by  your  leave,  I  shall  reprint  that  leaf,  and  express  myself 
better,  if  I  can. 

The  expression  about  3Iijsterks^  in  Pope's  works,  was 
a  wanton  flourish,  alluding  to  the  Popish  doctrines,  and 
so  Mr.  Pope  understood  it.  But  I  find  how  foolish  it 
was,  since  it  has  given  a  handle  to  my  scribblers,  which  I 
did  not  know  till  you  told  me. 

The  purpose  of  the  second  sermon  was  only  to  evince 
God's  moral  government  against  one  objection,  a  very 
foolish  one,  but  a  very  fashionable,  the  immensity  of  the 
universe.  I  argued  indeed  more  largely  towards  the  end 
of  it,  and  broke  into  the  unity  of  the  design.  And  the 
discourse  is  not  the  better  for  it. 

I  have  got  your  dissertation,  which  has  afforded  me 
vast  pleasure.  All  the  additions  and  improvements  are 
truly  excellent.  The  absurd  sophistry  of  Fontenelle  is 
delicately  and  solidly  unravelled.  And  your  whole  de- 
sign is  complete,  nor  have  I  any  idea  of  its  being  made 
more  perfecto 

Query,  whether  in  your  discourse  of  the  folly  of  draw- 
ing j&flsi'i'o^*,  in  Comedy,  insi^SLd  o{  characters^  you  should 
not,  or  could  not,  find  occasion  to  say,  that  one  purpose 
of  the  observation  was  to  prevent  men's  carrying  your 
preference  of  plays  of  character  to  plays  of  i7Urigue  into 
an  extreme  ?  for  it  is  certain  that  this  just  fondness 
for  plays  of  character  led  some  great  writers  into  this 
mistake. 

As  to  what  you  say  of  vny  feathers^  I  have  reason  in- 
deed to  be  proud  of  them,  now  I  see  them  fabricated  ; 
but  it  is  that  kind  of  pride  in  which  the  Vulcans  of  the 
Staffordshire  forges  exult,  when  they  see  their  iron  ore 
transformed  into  those  beautifully  painted  and  enamelled  and 
gilded  utensils,  made  at  Birmingham,  for  the  cabinets  of 
the  curious.     In  short,  I  can't  tell  you  how  greatly  I  ad- 


84 

mire   all  your    additions   and    improvements.     And   the 
sooner  }0U  send  It  to  the  press  the  better. 

But  you  was  made  for  higher  things  :  and  my  greatest 
pleasure  is,  that  you  give  me  a  hint,  you  are  impatient  to 
pursue  them.  What  will  not  such  a  capacity  and  such  a 
pen  do,  either  to  shame  or  to  improve  a  miserable  age  ! 
The  Church,  like  the  Ark  of  Noah,  is  worth  saving ;  not 
for  the  sake  of  the  unclean  beasts  and  vermin  that  almost 
filled  it,  and  probably  made  most  noise  and  clamour 
in  it,  but  for  the  liule  corner  of  rationality,  that  was  as 
much  distressed  by  the  stink  within,  as  by  the  tempest 
without. 

I  have  read  over  Chap.  III.  again  and  again,  and  find 
still  new. beauties  in  it.  What  you  say  of  the  sameness  of 
character,  which  politeness  makes  in  courts,  is  admirable 
— nothing  but  the  strong  play  of  the  passions^  as  you 
well  express  it,  can  strip  off  the  disguise. — By  the  way, 
is  not  this  a  new  reason,  even  for  the  sake  of  character, 
for  action's  being  the  principal  object  of  Tragedy  ? 

There  are  some  fine  strokes  of  raillery  which  please  me 
much  :  and  nothing  can  be  more  apropos  than  your  con- 
cluding quotation. — I  will  conceal  no  weakness  of  mine 
from  you.  I  will  own  I  am  proud  to  be  commended  by 
such  a  writer.  And  I  ought  not  to  be  grudged  this 
vanity  ;  for  I  make  myself  but  amends  for  the  mortifica- 
tion you  make  me  suffer  in  seeing  so  many  excellencies 
united  in  a  young  author,  that  old  ones  labour  after  in 
vain. 

I  leave  the  town  for  Prior-Park  on  Monday,  but 
have  taken  care  to  have  your  papers  reconveyed  to 
you  bv  the  same  way  they  came.  With  them,  I 
have  put  up  a  thing  of  my  own,  without  either  head 
or  tail  ;  that  is  to  say,  part  of  niy  discourse  on  the  mys- 
teries in  the  new  edition,  only  to  give  you  a  specimen  ot 


85 

the  edition.  You  may  bring  it  with  you  when  you 
come  to  us.  Only,  if  I  should  want  it  before,  I  will  let 
you  know. 

Bedford-Roxv,  June  1 3M,   1 751 . 


LETTER    XLVII. 

Prior-Park,  July  5th,  17o2. 

I  AM  glad  you  received  your  papers  back  safe.  What 
came  into  my  head  since  concerning  them,  was  only  this 
-—I  think  you  have  taken  notice  of  the  famous  Characters 
of  Theophrastus,  where  passions  and  not  men  are  colour- 
ed. Pray  would  an  observation  something  like  this  be 
worth  the  making  ? — Dramatic  poets  would  be  likely  tojus- 
tify  the  fault  you  condemn  by  the  example  of  that  great  mas- 
ter. But  you  may  say  it  would  be  by  the  same  indiscre- 
tion, a  painter  would  be  guilty  of,  who  would  employ  the 
excellent  colours  he  finds  upon  the  pallet  of  a  great  mas- 
ter, in  the  same  state  they  lie  there,  simple  and  unmixed, 
and  without  compounding,  to  fit  them  for  that  infinite 
variety  of  shades  and  tints,  requisite  for  the  expression 
of  existing  nature. 

I  am  glad  you  don't  dislike  my  improvements  of  the 
Divine  Legation.  With  regard  to  which  I  will  tell  you 
an  anecdotic,  that,  however,  for  aught  I  know,  I  have  told 
you  before.  But  it  is  no  great  matter  if  I  have.  W^heu 
the  London  Clergy  pretended  to  be  alarmed,  and  took  fire 
at  the  Divine  Legation,  and  were  encouraged  in  their  vio- 
lence by  Potter,  the  late  Archbishop,  (who  however  had 
the  meanness,  .when  I  expostulated  the  matter  with  him 
to  deny  every  thing,)  he  and  they  had  endeavoured  to 
persuade  certain  persons  of  great  name  for  learning,  with 
them,  (amongst  the  rest  one,  who  had  been  a  little  before 


86 

in  a  controversy  with  Middleton,  about  his  letter  to  Wa- 
terland,)  to  write  against  my  book.  They  gave  out  they 
had  engaged  these  considerable  hands  in  this  service, 
who  were  to  demolish  the  book.  On  which  I  resolved  to  be 
prepared  for  them,  (who,  by  the  way,  thought  better  of 
It,)  and  give  it  the  severest  examination  myself.  I  set 
about  this  work  with  great  care.  I  detected  (which  I  dare 
say  you  will  think  I  was  best  able  to  do)  all  the  weak 
parts  of  it.  I  shewed  no  mercy  to  them  ;  and  then  en- 
deavoured to  defend  them,  the  best  I  could.  I  went 
through  the  work,  and  committed  it  to  paper  :  which,  I 
thought,  I  should  soon  have  use  enough  of.  But  what 
do  you  think  was  the  issue  ?  In  the  first  place,  as  I  said, 
these  heroes  of  literature  refused  to  be  engaged.  But  in 
their  stead,  there  was  an  army  of  volunteers.  My  busi- 
ness vv^ith  these  was  merely  curiosity.  I  wanted  to  see 
if  any  of  them  had  hit  upon  the  weak  parts,  I  had  been 
with  so  much  pains  providing  for.  And  I  can  assure  you 
that  not  one  of  them  has  been  yet  found  out  by  my  ene- 
niies  ;  and  do  yet  remain  a  secref  between  God,  my  con- 
science, and  my  friends.  By  my  friends,  I  mean  all 
those  men  of  true  learning,  who,  without  doubt,  see  them 
as  well  as  I  do  ;  but  for  the  sake  of  other  things,  which  if 
not  well  executed,  they  have  the  candour  to  believe  well 
intended,  think  ought  to  be  pardoned,  and  not  objected  to 
a  fallible  author. 

You  talk  of  Jackson's  Chronology,  on  which  occasion 
you  quote  a  line  of  Mr.  Pope,  which  he  w'ould  have  en- 
vied you  the  application  of;  and  would  certainly  have 
drawn  a  new  character  of  a  diving-  Antiquarian,  for  the 
pleasure  of  applying  this  lino  to  him.  As  for  Jackson, 
you  would  hardly  think  (after  what  had  passed  between  us) 
that  all  his  account  of  the  mj'steries  should  be  one  entire 
theft  from  me,  a  transcript  of  my  account,  without  one 
word  of  acknowledgment :  for  which  I  shall    make    him 


87 

all  due  acknowledgments  in  a  note.  The  wretch  has  spent 
his  days  in  the  republic  of  letters,  just  as  your  vagabonds 
do  in  the  the  streets  of  London,  in  one  unvaried  course  of 
beggiiig^  railings  and  stealing'. 

The  Bishop  of  Exeter's  book  against  the  Methodists 
is,  I  think,  on  the  whole,  composed  well  enough  (though 
it  be  a  bad  copy  of  Stillingfleet's  famous  book  .of  the 
Fanaticism  of  the  Church  of  Rome')  to  do  the  execution 
he  intended. — In  pushing  the  Methodists,  to  make  ihem. 
like  every  thing  that  is  bad,  he  compares  their  fanaticism 
to  the  ancient  mysteries  ;  but  as  the  mysteries,  if  they  had 
ever  been  good,  were  not,  in  the  Bishop's  opinion,  bad 
enough  for  this  purpose,  he  therefore  endeavours  to  shew, 
against  me,  that  they  were  abominations  even  from  the 
beginning.  As  this  contradicts  all  antiquity  so  evidently, 
I  thought  it  would  be  ridiculous  in  me  to  take  any  notice 
of  him. 

Our  excellent  friend,  Mr.  Charles  Yorke,  escaped* 
narrowly  with  his  life.  This  makes  me  think  all  the 
rest  a  trifle :  though  he  has  lost  (together  with  excellent 
chambers  of  his  own)  an  excellent  library,  and,  what  is 
irreparable,  all  the  state  papers  of  his  great  uncle  Lord 
Somers,  in  thirty  or  forty  volumes  in  folio,  full  of  very 
material  things  for  the  history  of  those  times  -,  which 
I  speak  upon  my  own  knowledge. 

Poor  Fofster  (whom  T  have  just  received  a  letter  from) 
is  overwhelmed  with  desolation  for  the  loss  of  his  master. 
I  quoted  his  case  to  our  friend  Balguy  for  his  consolation. 
But  you  say — /  xvill  have  ?io  master — v.'hich,  I  confess, 
is  the  best  consolation  of  all. — Reckon  upon  it,  that  Dur- 
ham goes  to  some  Noble  Ecclesiastic.  'Tis  a  morsel  only 
for  them.  Our  Grandees  have  at  last  found  their  way 
baek  into  the  Church.  I  only  wonder  they  have  been  so 
long  about  it.     But  be  assured  that  nothing  but  a  new   re- 

*  From  a  fire  at  Lincoln's  Inn.    ^. 


iigious  revolution,  to  sweep  away  the  fragments  thai: 
Harry  the  Vlllth  left,  after  banqueting  his  courtiers, 
will  drive  them  out  again.  The  Church  has  been  of  old 
the  cradle  and  the  throne  of  the  younger  Nobility.  And 
this  nursing  mother  will,  I  hope,  once  more  vie  with  old 
imperious  Berecynthia — 


Lata  Deum  partu,  centum  complexa  Nepotes, 
Omiies  CcElicolas,  omnes  supera  alta  tenentes. 


You  mention  Noah's  Ark.  I  have  really  forgot  what  I 
said  of  it.  But  I  suppose  I  compared  the  Church  to  it, 
as  many  a  grave  Divine  has  done  before  me. — The  Rab- 
bins make  the  giant  Gog  or  Magog  contemporary  with 
Noah,  and  convinced  by  his  preaching.  So  that  he 
was  disposed  to  take  the  benefit  of  the  Ark.  But 
here  lay  the  distress  j  it  by  no  means  suited  his  di- 
mensions. Therefore,  as  he  could  not  enter  in,  he  con- 
tented himself  to  ride  upon  it  astride.  And  though  you 
must  suppose  that,  in  that  stormy  weather,  he  was  more 
than  half-boots  over,  he  kept  his  seat,  and  dismounted 
safely,  when  the  Ark  landed  on  Mount  Ararat.  Image 
now  to  yourself  this  illustrious  Cavalier  mounted  on  his 
hackneij:  and  see  if  it  does  not  bring  before  you  the 
Church,  bestrid  by  some  lumpish  minister  of  state,  who 
turns  and  winds  it  at  his  pleasure.  The  only  difftience 
is,  that  Gog  believed  the  preacher  of  righteousness  and 
religion. 

I  am,  &c. 


89 


LETTER  XLVHL 

YOUR  interpretation  of  Hos  juxta^  &c.*  is  very  in- 
genious :  it  is  more  natural,  it  is  more  of  a  piece,  in  short 
I  like  it  better  than  my  own.  But  here  lies  the  difficulty. 
You  go  upon  the  principle  of  making  a  corrupt  sentence 
confirmed.  But  how  could  that  be  said  to  be  confirmed, 
which  was  reheard  and  set  to  rights  ?  Nee  vero  hoe  sine 
sorte  datce,  &fc. 

But  this  is  not  the  worst.  Virgil  does  not  represent 
these  da?nnati  as  stationed  (like  the  infantum  animce  and 
the  mcesti  insontes)  by  a  judgment  already  past  upon  them  ; 
but  as  then  a-judging,  when  iEneas  passed  by. 

Qusesitor  Minos  umam  movet  ;  ille  silentum 
Consiliumque   vocat,  vitasque  et  crimina  discit. 

And  therefore  by  hce  sedes  I  do  not  understand  these 
seats  in  purgatory^  (which  would  indeed  imply  they  were 
stationed^  but  the  various  seats  in  the  infernal  regions^ 
of  rexvard  or  punishment.  You  will  say,  if  this  were  the 
case,  they  are  strangely  jumbled  in  between  the  Infants  and 
Suicides,  who  are  both  doomed  and  stationed.  And  so 
say  I.  This  smells  of  an  unfinished  poem  ;  and,  had  he 
lived  to  give  it  his  last  hand,  he  would  have  placed  them, 
I  suspect — partes  ubi  se  via  findit  in  umbras^  £s?c.  These 
were  my  thoughts  of  this  passage  on  my  first  commenting 
on  this  Sixth  Book  :  and  these  led  me  to  what  I  thought 
the  poet  hinted  at  in  the  Gorgias.  And  I  the  rather 
thought  he  had  it  in  his  eye,  both  because  the  fable  was  a 
celebrated  one,  and  because  he  has  Plato  all  the  way  much 

*   See  Divine  Legation,  Rook  2.  Sect.  4.  p.  271.  4to  edition.     H 

M 


90 

in  his  eye.  But  here  is  the  difference  between  your  inter- 
pretation and  mine  :  yours  makes  this  circumstance  of 
more  importance,  and  more  of  a  piece  with  the  genius  of 
his  work,  by  making  it  a  political  lesson  ;  mine  only  a 
poetical  embellishment  of  a  celebrated  fable  of  antiquity  : 
in  short,  yours  is  to  be  preferred,  if  you  can  fairly  account, 
on  the  principles  of  it,  for  Minos  and  his  urn.  At  present, 
as  he  is  only  busied  about  these  delinquents,  I  cannot  but 
think  that  Virgil  describes  him  as  he  was  employed  by 
Plato. 

At  your  leisure  you  will  consider  of  it.  And  whether 
we  agree  upon  yours  or  mine,  I  find  I  shall  have  occasion 
to  make  some  alterations,  which  this  rude  shock  of  an 
objection  has  given  to  my  crazy  system  of  the  Damnati. 
Had  this  volume  of  the  Divine  Legation  been  now  to 
write,  it  would  have  been  another  sort  of  thing,  with  your 
assistance.  But  as  I  say  this  only  out  of  my  passion  for 
the  advancement  of  real  knowledge,  I  have  sufficient 
amends  in  the  thoughts  that  you  persist  in  your  resolution 
to  turn  your  parts  and  learning  to  the  study  of  the  great 
truths  of  religion.  On  which  head,  I  shall  use  the  words 
of  Mr.  Pope  to  me,  and  I  hope  with  more  influence  and 
success — iterumque  iterumque  inonebo. 

The  inclosed  scrap  of  paper  is  for  our  friend  j\Ir.  Mason. 
I  promised  it  to  him.  It  seems  to  be  tlie  heads  of  a  dis- 
course on  the  birth  and  genealogy  of  English  poetry.  It 
is  in  IMr.  Pope's  own  hand  ;  but  seems  to  want  a  poetical 
decypherer  to  make  any  thing  of  it. 

You  are  a  very  courtly  man  to  make  apologies  for  your 
favours  ;.  and  for  favours  I  most  value,  the  hearing  fre- 
quently from  you.  Be  confident  of  my  constant  love 
and  affection.     For  you  arc  the  man  after  my  own  lieart. 

Prior-Park,  Julij   IHth,  1752. 


LETTER  XLIX. 

Wcymouthy  Dorsetshire^  August  1 7th^  1 752, 

THE  Goths  and  Vandals  of  a  Court  have  driven  me 
from  the  Muses  to  the  Sea  Nymphs  ;  whose  favours 
I  here  court  every  morning ;  but  abstain  from  this 
profane  commerce,  hke  a  good  Christian  Priest,  on  Sun- 
days. 

But  the  house  is  now  again  disburthened  of  its  princely 
honours*  ;  and  I  should  return  thither  before  the  family, 
but  that  Mr.  Charles  Yorke  has,  inai  a  propos^  sent  me 
word  he  would  come  down  to  me,  so  that  whether  I  can 
get  from  hence  before  the  family,  is  very  uncertain.  They 
return  before  Michaelmas,  and  all  of  us  with  the  pleasing 
expectation  of  your  performance  of  your  promise.  But 
you  shall  hear  more  precisely  the  day  of  our  return. 

I  have  been  tossed  about,  like  the  poor  Britons  in 
Gildas,  y}-i5m  M^  sea  to  the  Saxons^  and  from  the  Saxons  to 
the  sea.     I  expect  my  amends  in  your  visit. 

I  think  your  reading  of  the  two  lines,  Hos  juxta^  &c. 
very  hne,  and  almost  envy  you  for  it. 

I  am  pleased  with  your  attendance  on  the  Assises,  and 
to  see  truth  and  justice  kiss  each  other  y  though  it  be  a  parting 
kiss  ;  and  you  was  to  be  succeeded  by  Chicane.  How- 
ever, I  hope  the  worthy  Sheriif  will  take  care,  with  the 
assistance  of  the  grand  jury,  to  get  the  impression  of  this 
kiss.  Pray  how  is  Kit  Nevil  in  his  health  and  spirits  ? 
He  partakes  of  the  one  brother's  vivacity,  and  the  other's 
phlegm,  with  a  better  understanding,  I  think,  than  either. 
All  this  together  makes  a  very  singular  composition,  and 
used  to  subject  him  to  many  inequalities,  amongst  which 


*  Mr.  Allen  had  lent  his  house,  at  Prior-Park,  to  Princess  Amelia  ;  who 
was  there  some  weeks  to  drink  the  Rath  waters.    H. 


92 

however  his  virtue  and  his  honour  distinguished  him  ever, 
from  the  country  squires  he  chose  sometimes  to  converse 
with,  to  the  neglect  of  better  company,  and  whom  he  more 
esteemed  ;  I  mean  the  clergy  of  Grantham,  with  some  of 
whom  he  had  been  bred  from  his  infancy  ;  and  who,  I 
believe,  thought  themselves  a  little  neglected  by  him  since 
I  left  the  country  :  for  while  I  was  there,  I  brought  them 
frequently  together,  as  a  middle  term.  In  a  word,  I  es- 
teem and  honour  him,  and  can't  but  be  pleased  at  his  kind 
resentment  of  my  friendly  endeavours  to  serve  and  oblige 
him.  Frank  Barnard  is  a  man  of  unusual  honour  and  sen- 
timents of  friendship  in  his  commerce  of  the  world. 


LETTER  L. 

Bedford-Roxv,  December  ISth^  1752. 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

FOR  so  you  would  be  to  me  even  for  your  voxv's  sakcy 
and  without  our  personal  attachment  ;  I  could  not  leave 
this  place  without  acknowledging  your  kind  letter  of  the 
5th.  I  kept  here  longer  than  you  imagined ;  but  my 
coming  late,  the  change  of  the  stile,  and  a  very  bad  cold, 
which  has  kept  me  long  confined  and  physicked,  have 
thrown  me  later  into  December  before  my  return,  than 
you  might  reasonably  imagine.  But  I  propose  setting  out 
for  Prior-Park  to-morrow. 

Your  good  wishes  for  me  are  very  kind :  and  your  sense 
cfthe  times,much  juster  than  youyourself  imagine.  Should 
I  tell  you  my  usage  through  life,  and  yet  my  acquaintance 
in  the  great  world  has  been  only  with  those  of  whom  the 
public  has  spoke  highest,  I  should  astonish  you.  The  small 
specimen  I  gave  you  was  but  a  paltry  one,  in  comparisoir. 


93 

You  shall  know  the  whole  one  day  or  other.  For  I 
should  be  sorry  to  go  out  of  the  world,  and  leave  you  in  it, 
ignorant  of  this  part  of  my  history.  And  yet,  I  will  assure 
you,  I  deserved  other  usage ;  as  one  of  your  penetration 
will  the  easier  credit  from  this  circumstance,  that  though 
several  of  the  actors,  or  rather  no  actors,  of  course  know 
several  parts,  vet  the  whole  of  this  curious  history  is 
unknown  to  all  mankind  but  myself;  and  I  could  wish,  but 
for  the  reason  above,  that  I  myself  could  forget  it.  At  the 
same  time  I  am  sensible  enough  how  much  what  we  call 
chance  governs  in  the  affairs  of  the  world  ;  that  is,  things 
falling  out  besides  the  intention  of  the  actors  ;  and  therefore 
sufferers  are  generally  apt  to  ascribe  more  to  injustice  than 
they  ought. 

You  have  heard  your  Diocesan  is  disgraced.     I  speak 
the  Court-language,  where  it  is  the  mark  of  want  of  grace  ^ 
to  be  ill  with  the  Minister;   who  says  the  Bishop  wanted 
gratitude :  and  that  I  take  to  be  as  damnable  a  want  as  the 
other.     However,  the  great  man  takes  shame  upon  himself 
for  being  so  deceived  in  his  choice.   The  Bishop  is  allowed, 
however,  by  all  parties  at  Court,  to  be  an  ingenious  man. 
And  it  is  a  thousand  to  one  the  ingratitude,  whatever  there 
was  in  it,  will  be  thrown  upon  that:  and  better  care  taken 
another  time.     But  do  you  guess  how  it  will  be  repaired  ; 
I,  who  am  in  no  Court  secrets,  but  by  the  mere  divination 
of  a  critic,  can  tell  you — to  give  the  next   Bishopric  to  one 
v.'hohas  no  ingenuity  at  all:  instead  of  effectually  preventing 
the  danger  of  ingratitude  by  proinoting  and   attaching  a 
man  of  real  merit ;  whom  the  nature  of  things   no   more 
suffers  to  be  ungrateful,  than  it  permits   the  elements  to 
change  their  qualities.     But  Princes  pick  off  from  dung- 
hills the  curiosities  for  their  cabinets,  and  then  complain 
of  being  bewrayed.     Thus   does  the  order  of  things  pu- 
nish that  bad  judgment  which  arises  from  a  worse  heart. 


94 

Your  account  of  old  Bishop  Hall  is  curious  aud  fine  , 
jind,  from  what  I  have  read  o:  his  Satires,  I  dare  say,  true. 

Your  account  of  your  labouring  through  poor  Birch* 
made  me  smile.  I  will  assure  you  he  has  here  done  his 
best,  and  topt  his  part.  As  to  the  Archbishop,  he  was 
certainly  a  virtuous,  pious,  humane,  and  moderate  man  ; 
which  last  quality  was  a  kind  of  rarity  in  those  times.  His 
notions  of  civil  society  were  but  confused  and  imperfect,  as 
appears  in  the  affair  of  LordRussel.  As  to  religion,  he  was 
4imongsi  the  class  of  latitudinarian  divines.  I  admire  his 
preserving  his  moderation  in  all  times,  more  than  his  relusing 
the  Archbishopric  at  the  time  of  his  decay,  and  after  a  stroke 
of  an  apoplexy,  and  when  he  had  the  large  revenue  of  the 
Deanry  of  St.  Paul's,  and  when  the  Archiepiscopal  proiuo- 
tion,he  knew,  would  expose  him  to  infinite  abuse.  But  what 
I  admire  most,  was  his  beneficence  and  generosity,  and 
contempt  of  wealth.  But  see  the  imperfection  of  huma- 
nity. That  moderation,  coolness,  and  prudence  ;  (which  you 
guessed  right  is  held  in  the  highest  admiration  by  the 
person  you  wot  of — Tillotson  is  indeed  his  hero;)  this 
turn,  I  say,  which  made  him  so  placable  an  enemy,  made 
him  but  a  cold  or  indifferent  friend  ;  as  you  may  see,  in 
part,  by  that  exceeding  simple  narrative  of  Beardmore  ; 
(1  use  simple  in  the  best  sense  j)  for  so  imperfect  are  we, 
as  I  say,  that  the  human  mind  can  with  difficulty  have 
that  warmth  of  friendship  kindled  in  it,  (v/hich,  after  all, 
is  what  makes  a  two-legged  animal  deserve  the  name  of 
man,)  but  the  same  heat  will  prove  noxious  to  others. 
So  that  you  see,  if  Tillotson  was  defective  in  this,  I  lay 
the  blame  not  upon  him,  but  upon  corrupt  humanity. — 
As  a  preacher,  I  suppose  his  established  fame  is  chiefly 
.owing  to  his  being  the  first  City-divine  who  talked  ration- 

*  His  life  of  Archbishop  Tillotson.    // 


95 

ally  and  wrote  purely.  I  think  the  sermons  published 
in  his  life-time  are  fine  moral  discourses.  They  bear 
indeed  the  character  of  their  author,  simple,  elegant, 
candid,  clear,  and  rational.  No  orator,  in  the  Greek  and 
Roman  sense  of  the  word,  like  Taylor ;  nor  a  discourser 
in  their  sense,  like  Barrow;*  free  from  their  irregulari- 
ties, but  not  able  to  reach  their  heights.  On  which  account 
I  prefer  them  infinitely  to  him.  You  cannot  sleep  with 
Taylor ;  you  cannot  forbear  thinking  with  Barrow.  But 
you  may  be  much  at  your  ease  in  die  midst  of  a  long 
lecture  from  Tillotson  ;  clear,  and  rational,  and  equable  as 
he  is.     Perhaps  the  last  quality  may  account  for  it. 

The  length  of  this,  is  to  shew  you  what  sincere  pleasure 
I  take  in  yours.  I  own  it  is  giving  you  a  severe  proof  of  it, 
but  I  judge  of  you  by  myself.  And  I  think  we  have 
minds  (as  I  am  sure  we  have  hearts)  so  attuned,  that  we 
can't  well  be  mistaken  in  one  another.  Be  so  good,  at 
any  time  before  you  come  up  in  Spring,  to  call  on  Tom 
Warburton.  There  are  some  shillings  due  to  him  from 
me.  He  laid  down  some  money  for  my  nephew  when  he 
took  his  degree,  and  I  sent  him  a  bank  note  for  it.  But 
the  odd  money  remains  unpaid,  which  I  beg  you  to  pay 
him  for  me.  It  is  just  now  in  my  head,  which  is  the 
reason  of  this  mention,  least  I  should  quite  forget  it. 

*  Taiflor — Barroiv.']  In  another  Letter  to  me,  not  contained  in  this  Collec- 
tion, Mr.  Warburton  expresses  his  sentiments  of  these  two  eminent  persons 
in  the  following  manner — "Taj  lor  and  Barrcw  are  incomparably  the  greatest 
"  preacliers  anil  divines  of  their  ?,s;e.  But  my  predilection  is  for  Tnylor.  He 
"  has  all  the  abundance  and  solidity  of  the  other,  with  a  ray  of  lightning  of 
"  his  own,  which  if  he  did  not  derive  it  from  Demosthenes  and  Tuily,  has, 
"  at  least,  as  generous  and  noble  an  original.  It  is  true,  they  are  both 
"  incowjiti,  or  ratlier  exuberant.  But  it  is  for  such  little  writers  as  the  Preach- 
"  er  of  Line, hi's  Inn  [himself "!  to  hide  their  barrenness  by  the  finicalnf.ss 
"  «f  eulture."     W. 


96 


LETTER  LI. 

Prior-Park^  Jamiary  I5thf-1753. 

1  RECEIVED  your  obliging  letter  of  the  12th,  and 
am  very  sorry  to  understand  (and  so  is  the  rest  of  the 
family)  that  you  have  been  some  time  out  of  order.  Take 
care  of  your  health.     We  are  all  inte'-ested  in  it. 

I  sometimes  suspected,  in  your  pleasant  account  of  your 
Cambridge  declaimers,  that  you  only  flattered  me  in  rela- 
ting this  strange  stuff:  and  that,  in  pity  to  me,  you  kept 
back  some  substantial  objections  of  your  formidable  Ceti- 
sors.  Sometimes  again,  I  fancied  it  apiece  of  waggery 
of  yours  and  our  friends,  to  make  me  laugh. 

If  the  thing  be  real,  and  there  be  such  an  objector,  all  I 
can  say  is,  that  no  Grub-street  Garret  ever  whelpt  so  stu- 
pendous a  dunce.  As  to  subtilties  and  refinements,  if  an  ass 
could  speak,  he  would  call  rose-leaves  such,  that  pass  over 
his  palate  unfelt ;  while  he  was  at  his  substantial  diet  of 
good  brown  thistles. 

By  the  Africafi  torroit,^  I  did  not  mean  their  Syrtes, 
but,  a  torrent  of  words  ;  and,  in  such  a  one,  I  hope,  there 
may  be  thoughts  and  expressions.  And  it  is  a  little  hard 
not  to  let  me  tell  how  they  were  modified  and  circumstan- 
ced. The  words  that  nobody  ever  heard  of,  I  believe, 
were  all  naturalized  before  he  and  I  were  born.  He  is  for 
a  natural vciodtX  of  eloquence.  There  have  indeed  been 
blockheads  before  him,  but  will  hardly  be  any  after  him 
who  thought  words  natural^  and  not  artificial.  But  as 
that  is  now  given  up,  and  terms  are  owned  to  be  arbitrary, 
it  seems  no  very  bold  matter  to  say  all  their  combinations 
are  so  too.  Page  199, 1  say,  "  Every  language  consists  of 
"  two  distinct  parts,  the  single  terms  and  the  phrases  and 

•  The  passage  criticised  by  the  Cambridge  Censors,  and  here  so  well  de 
fended,  may  lie  fonnd  in  page  5S;;.  \o!,  IVth  of  bis  Works,  4»o.  178S,     ff 


97 

"idioms."  My  subject  required  me  here  to  speak  of  the  dis- 
tinct parts  :  there  are  but  truo  :  for  the  inflections  of  single 
terms,  according  to  grammatical  congruity,  are  no  more 
distinct  from  the  tenns^  than  a  cat  in  a  hole  is  distinct 
from  a  cat  out  of  a  hole.  I  only  mention  this  to  shew 
I  do  not  write  at  random.  In  a  word,  if  these  won- 
derful objections  really  come  from  our  Athens,  be  of 
good  cheer,  the  Goths  and  Vandals,  let  them  return 
when  they  will,  can  never  hurt  you.  I  would  not  willingly 
be  serious  on  so  despicable  a  subject ;  for  the  least  reflec- 
tion would  be  enough  to  make  one  melancholy,  to  see  so 
miserable  a  spirit  of  malignity  take  possession  of  the  seat 
of  learning — of  the  breasts  of  candidates  for,  or  perhaps 
members  of,  the  sacred  Ministry.  And  against  whom  ? 
One  of  the  same  profession  ;  one  who  has  no  other  view 
in  writing  than  to  promote  the  common  cause  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  and  who,  as  a  man,  never  missed  one  opportunity 
of  speaking  well  of  and  recommending  rising  merit  to  his 
betters,  how  much  a  stranger  soever,  and  of  whatsoever 
party  or  religion  ; — to  his  betters,  I  say,  of  whom  he 
never  asked  any  thing  for  himself.  You  will  think  I  am 
heated.  You  are  mistaken.  Or,  if  I  be  moved,  it  is  only 
in  compassion  to  such  miserable  tempers.  I  now  cease  to 
wonder,  my  dear  friend,  at  what  you  said  in  a  letter  or  two 
ago,  of  your  inclination  to  escape  to  your  little  Zoar.  Take 
my  word,  the  exterminating  Angel  is  gone  out,  I  mean  the 
angel  of  dulness,  who  is  ready  to  pour  his  vials  into  the 
vv'aters  of  Cam.  But  he  cannot  do  any  thing'  till  thou  be 
come  thither. 

I  propose  leaving  this  place  for  London  next  Monday _, 
The  family  will  come  to  me  in  the  beginning  of  March :  a 
the  meeting  you  will  much  console  them  in  a  strange  place, 
as  they  always  reckon  London  to  be. 

Mr.  Charles  Yorke  spent  the  Christmas  with  us.  I  read 
to  him  your  fine  account  of  ^ishop  Hall,  which  pleased 
him  extremely. 


98 

LETTER  LII. 

April  5th,  175Si 
I  HAVE  your  kind  letter,  and  am  glad  to  find  the  coun- 
try air  has  restored  you  to  yourself.  Your  account  of 
Lowth's  book  is  ver}'  curious.  I  will  cast  an  eye  on  some 
of  the  chapters,  when  I  have  leisure ;  and  may  possibly 
return  some  of  his  favours. 

I  should  be  sorry  that  a  newspaper  should  tell  you, 
before  I  can  do  it,  of  Lord  Chancellor's  favour  to  me  ; 
which  receives  its  value  from  the  very  polite  manner  of 
doing  it.  Last  Sunday  he  sent  me  a  message,  with  the 
offer  of  a  prebend  of  Gloucester  as  a  mark  of  his  regard, 
and  wishes  that  it  had  been  better.  I  desired  Mr.  Charles 
Yorke  to  tell  him,  that  no  favours  from  such  a  hand  could 
be  unacceptable.  He  said,  he  always  had  it  in  his  inten- 
tion ;  though  he  said  no  more  of  his  design,  than  I  did  o£ 
any  expectation  or  desire.  I  said,  I  should  be  sorry  that 
a  friend  who  interests  himself  so  much  as  you  do  in  wha^ 
concerns  me,  should  hear  of  the  Chancellor's  kindness  to 
me  first  from  a  newspaper.  But  enough  of  this :  which  is 
only  considerable  to  me  from  the  very  obliging  manner  of 
conferring  the  favour,  though  I  believe  it  is  the  best  pre 
bend  he  has  to  give. 


LETTER  LIIL 

I  RECEIVED  this  evening  your  most  kind  present 
of  the  Commentary  on  Horace.  All  writers  flatter  them- 
selves with  posterity  and  a  name.  And  the  luxury  of 
this  imagination  I  have  set^n,  and  now  I  feel,  is  in- 
finitely  heightened  by  going  down  to  it  inseparably  with 


99 

bome  bosom  friend.  All  have  talked  of  it  with  pleasuTe, 
and  every  honest  man,  I  dare  say,  has  felt  it  with  more. 
So  it  is  natural ;  therefore,  why  should  not  I  indulge  it  ? 
And  though  it  be  a  common  boast,  why  should  not  I 
make  it,  when  you  have  given  me  so  generous,  so  friendly, 
and  so  noble  an  occasion  ?  And,  I  can  assure  you,  my 
perfect  consciousness  of  not  deserving  any  thing  you  say 
in  my  favour,  makes  no  abatement  of  my  pleasure,  be- 
cause it  shews,  in  the  same  proportion,  the  greatness  of 
your  affection  for  me,  which  gives  me  the  greatest 
pleasure. 

Your  reflections  on  poor  Law  please  me  for  your  own 
sake.  They  shew  such  a  state  of  mind  as  puts  your  hap- 
piness out  of  Fortune's  power  ;  and  would  force  me  to 
love  you  for  it,  though  you  had  no  other  claim  to  my  af- 
fection. But  what  are  fifty  years  to  a  man  whose  studies 
have  never  been  occupied  upon  man  ;  the  only  study  from 
whence  true  wisdom  is  to  be  got  ?  For, 

"  Whether  In  Metaphysics  at  a  loss, 

"  Or  wandering  in  a  wilderness  of  moss," 

'tis  pretty  much  the  same,  for  all  improvements  in  life. 
Hence,  in  his  speculations,  this  poor  man  has  been  hur- 
ried from  extreme  to  extreme.  One  while  persecuting  Dr. 
Middleton,  at  another  time  writing  Theses  ten  times 
more  licentious  and  paradoxical  than  the^Doctor'so  And 
now  at  fifty!  wliat  a  miserable  thing,  to  hav€  his  head 
turned  about  a  Mastership:  of  which,  by  the  way, 
he  is  not  half  so  fit  as  Sancho  Pan^a  was  for  his  govern- 
ment. 

In  two  or  three  days  I  shall  set  out  either  for  Prior-Park, 
or  Gloucester.  Don't  you  laugh  when  I  mention  Glouces- 
ter? Birch  introduced  the  directions  he  gave  me  about 
taking  possession,  &c.    not  amiss.     He  said,  it  was  so 


100 

long  since  I  had  any  preferment,  that  I  must  have  forgot 
all  the  formalities  of  the  law.  There  was  another  thing 
he  did  not  dream  of,  that  it  is  so  long  since  I  had  occa- 
sion to  inquire  about  the  formalities,  that  I  am  become 
very  indifferent  to  the  things  themselves.  You  shall  hear 
of  my  motions  when  I  have  made  them.  In  the  mean 
time  you  will  do  me  the  justice  to  believe,  that  I  am  at  all 
times,  and  with  all  affection,  yours.  Accept  my  sincerest 
acknowledgments  for  the  honour  you  have  done  me,  which 
I  set  a  higher  value  upon  than  any  our  superiors  can  give  ; 
and  believe  me  to  be,  &c. 


LETTER  LIV. 

I  HAVE  just  got  Bolingbroke's  three  Tracts.  The 
letter  to  Mr.  Pope  is  a  kind  of  common-place  (and  a 
poor  one)  of  freethinking  objections  and  disingenuity. 
When  you  have  read  it,  you  will  see  for  what  reason  I 
published  the  first  Sermon  on  the  Nature  and  Condition  of 
Truth.  Which  I  think  obviates  every  thing  material  in 
that  letter.  There  is  a  remarkable  paragraph,  beginning, 
If  you  continue  still  [bottom  of  page  521]  to — carry  him 
very  evidently — [towards  the  bottom  of  page  522]  which 
will  be  explained  by  what  I  have  told  you  of  his  great 
jealousy  of  my  taking  Pope  out  of  his  hands,  by  my 
Commentary  on  the  great  principle  of  the  Essay,  the 
folhxving  Nature  and  Nature's  God. 

You  see  he  passes  a  solemn  condemnation  on  the  dis- 
turbers of  the  Religion  of  oive's  country.  Whether  the 
editors  published  this  introductory  letter  out  of  stupidity, 
or  whether  it  was  to  excuse  themselves  for  not  giving  the 
horrid  impieties  which  follow,  and  not  only  contradict 
this  principle,  but  that  other  of  pretending  to  believe  the 
Gospel,  is  yet  a  secret.     Another  thing  pleases  me  in  thi^ 


w 
101 

letter.  It  is  a  full  confutation  of  that  invidious  report, 
that  Pope  had  his  Philosophy  from  Bolingbroke,  and  only 
turned  his  prose  letters  into  verse.  For  here  it  appears 
that  the  Essay  on  Man  was  published  before  Bolingbroke 
composed  his  first  philosophical  epistle.  In  a  word,  it 
it  was  not  for  the  very  curious  and  well-written  letter  to 
Sir  William  Windham,  this  letter  to  Pope  would  be  re- 
ceived with  great  neglect.  So  far  for  this  pigmy  giant. 
I  have  lately  been  much  better  employed  in  considering 
the  many  important  improvements  in  your  Commentary. 
As  to  the  Discourse  before  the  second  volume,  had  it  not 
been  addressed  to  me,  I  had  many  things  to  say  ;  and 
should  have  thought  it  the  best  piece  of  composition  I 
had  ever  seen  in  any  language. 

1  write  this  under  a  great  deal  of  pain  of  the  gravel ; 
and  yet  I  propose  going  in  two  or  three  days  to  Glouces- 
ter :  where  a  letter  directed  for  the  Rev.  Mr.  Warbur- 
ton^  at  Gloucester^  will  very  readily  find  me.  Mr.  Allen, 
Mrs.  Alle*i,  my  wife,  and  all  the  family,  desire  I  would 
tell  you  of  their  most  affectionate  remembrance. 

Prior-Park,  April  29th,  1753. 

P.  S.  I  have  looked  over  the  letter  to  Sir  William  Wind- 
,  ham.     It  is  castrated  of  one  of  its  most  curious  anec- 

dotes. The  State  of  the  Nation  is  a  true  represen- 
tation J  and  well  explained.  He  rightly  dates  our 
miseries  from  the  bad  peace  of  Utrecht,  and  our  en- 
gagement in  the  late  war.  But  there  is  more  than 
ordinary  impudence  in  this :  as  he  himself  contri- 
buted as  much  or  more  than  any  one  man,  to  both. 
To  the  first,  in  capacity  of  Tory-minister,  who  ma- 
naged the  whole  transaction  :  to  the  other  as  con- 
ductor (out  of  the  house)  of  that  opposition  which 
drove  Walpole  into  a  war,  (in  order  to  ruin  him,) 
by  espousing  the  cause  of  the  Merchants'  contraband 
trade. 


102 


LETTER  LV. 

Prior- Park. 
I  RECEIVED  your  kind  letter  at  Gloucester,  than 
■which  nothing  could  be  more  welcome,  except  yourself : 
though,  had  you  made  me  so  happy,  I  could  have  more 
easily  supplied  you  with  a  pulpit  than  a  bed.  By  which  you 
may  understand,  in  how  much  better  a  state  that  Church  is, 
as  to  its  spirituals  than  its  temporals.  I  found  the  Chap- 
ter in  a  dead  calm,  which  hatU  succeeded  a  storm,  that 
ended  with  the  late  Bishop's  life  :  to  whom  two  of  the 
Canons  had  appealed,  as  Visitor,  against  the  encroach- 
ing power  of  the  Dean.  There  was  in  the  Dean's  con- 
duct, as  in  Sir  Roger's  picture  on  the  sign-post,  some 
features  of  ferocity,  and  a  small  mixture  of  the  Saracen 
with  the  good  Christian  churchman.  The  Visitor  de- 
cided in  favour  of  the  appellants,  and  suspended  the 
refractory  Dean  for  contempt.  So  far  all  went  well.  But 
the  Bishop,  who  affected  to  incorporate  the  two  most 
inconsistent  characters  in  all  nature,  the  Disciplinarian 
-and  the  fine  gentleman,  the  man  of  manners  and  candour^ 
(you  will  not  ask  another  proof  of  his  being  a  weak  man,) 
in  order  to  temper  the  severity  of  his  sentence,  carried 
the  several  pieces  of  the  process,  himself,  to  the  Dean, 
instead  of  sending  them  by  the  proper  officers.  V^hich 
the  other  most  uncivilly  took  the  advantage  of,  to  carry 
them  into  Westminster-hall.  The  Law  is  eternal.  But 
we  poor  mortals  have  an  end:  and,  with  it,  all  our  mise- 
ries ;  of  which  a  law-suit  is  not  the  least.  The  Bishop 
dies,  and  a  calm  ensues.  But,  if  it  had  pleased  Provi- 
dence, we  might  have  had  it  at  a  less  expense,  than  the 
death  of  an  honest  man.  The  devil  of  discord  had  gone 
■«ut  into,  I  don't  know  how  many,  of  the  Cathedral 
-churches,  and  set  the  Canons  against  their  Dean :  but  having 


103 

of  late  had  business  at  Court,  he  left  them  to  their  own 
inventions.  So  that,  peace  every  where  presently  returned^ 
and,  in  most  places,  on  easier  terms  than  we  have  got  this 
respite  from  law  and  contention.  For,  tis  only  a  respite : 
the  two  parties  yet  breathe  war  and  defiance.  And  here 
tell  me,  you  to  whom  human  nature  has  no  disguise  which 
you  cannot  penetrate,  the  reason  of  this  strange  phenome- 
non, that  when  our  good  Dean,  a  venerable  old  gentle- 
man of  78,  is  become  quite  satiated  with  civil porver^  he 
should  be  still  fonder  and  fonder  of  ecclesiastical.  A  day 
or  two  before  I  left  Gloucester,  he  came  to  me,  and  with 
much  earnestness  begged  that,  when  I  got  to  town,  I 
would  solicit  the  Chancellor  to  strike  him  out  of  the  com- 
mission of  the  peace  ;  for  that  his  age  and  infirmities 
made  him  utterly  incapable  of  discharging  the  duty.  Must 
there  not  be  some  secret  charm  in  Church-potver^  of  which 
you  and  I  are  ignorant,  and  consequently  unworthy  to 
participate  of  their  mysteries  ? 

Amidst  these  high  Cathedral  matters,  your  excellent 
Charity-sermon  came  to  hand.  Amongst  many  admirable 
observations,  you  will  believe,  v/hat  pleased  me  most  was 
your  just  reproof  of  those  who  discover  no  serious  senti- 
ments of  our  holy  religion  ;  I  will  not  say,  in  their  lives, but 
even  in  their  conversations;  and  can  talk  of  the  wretched 
state  of  it  amongst  their  friends  and  countrymen  with  the 
same  phlegm  and  indifference  that  they  speak  of  the  brokeni 
power  of  the  States  of  Holland.  You  speak  my  mind  so 
much  in  all  you  say,  and  my  soul  in  all  you  think,  that  I  shall 
know  where  to  have  recourse  for  my  lost  ideas,  as  time 
and  age  deprive  me  of  them.  So  that  my  first  wish  would 
be  to  have  you  always  near  me  and  at  hand  :  as  my  second 
is,  to  be  always  in  your  thoughts,  and  to  have  as  large 
a  share  in  your  esteem  as,  in  conscience,  you  can  allow  to 
jnv  infirmities. 


104 

1  shall  set  forward  to  London  on  Tuesday.  The  family 
left  this  place  for  Weymouth  last  Thursday  ;  all  but  my 
Avife,  who  would  needs  stay  with  me  these  few  days  ;  and 
then,  like  a  fashionable  man  and  wife,  (she  bids  me  tell  you,) 
we  start  out  together  East  and  West.  She  bids  me  say 
a  great  deal  more,  which  you  shall  guess  at,  though  her 
sincerity  deserves  better  than  that  her  speeches  should  be 
dismissed  unrepeated  into  the  land  of  compliments,  where 
all  things  are  forgotten.  Pray  let  me  know  particularly 
and  exactly  the  present  state  of  your  health,  and  what 
your  Physician  says  of  the  Bath  or  sea  waters.  And  if 
they  be  needless,  and  your  health  well  restored,  then,  what 
you  yourself  say  of  the  next  favour  you  intend  Mr.  Allen, 
who  warmly  loves  and  esteems  you.  You  cannot  do  him, 
that  is,  nobody  can  do  him,  a  greater  pleasure. 

Your  judgment,  as  usual,  is  very  exact  and  candid 
concerning  Blackwell's  book.  He  ends  every  piece  of 
adulation  with  this  formula — Accept  this  from  a  ?nar. 
untaught  to  fatter.  What  would  he  have  done,  had  he 
had  a  regular  education  at  Court,  who  does  so  well,  crassa 
Minerva  P 

Remember  me  kindly  to  Mr.  Balguy;  and  continue  tc 
love,  &c. 

June  10th,  17  So, 


LETTER  LVL 

LAST  Wednesday  I  took  the  liberty  of  sending  you 
a  small  packet  by  the  carrier ;  and  yesterday  I  received  a 
very  kind  letter  from  you. 

I  am  glad  your  Chancellor  has  made  his  visit  so  muc  h 
to  the  satisfaction  of  all.  So  that  I  suppose  now  the  only 
contention  will  be,  who  first  shall   strip  and  get   in,  after 


105 

die  stirring  of  the  pool.  What  you  say  of  Mr.  J.  Y.  was 
very  obliging.  You  was  not  mistaken  in  the  inference 
drawn  from  Caryl's  intelligence  about  Lord  Nottingham 
and  Cudworth. 

I  am  sorry  to  find  you  are  not  yet  reinstated  in  your  health, 
and  that  Cambridge  and  the  environs  will  detain  you  this 
Summer.  But  shall  we  not  see  you  about  October  next  at 
Prior-Park  ? 

As  to  the  history  of  the  Long  Parliament,  the  principal 
authors  are,  "  May's  History  of  the  Parliament,"  which 
only  reaches  to  the  time  of  the  self-denying  ordinance^ 
Clarendon,  Whitlock,  Ludlow,  Rushworth's  Collections, 
and  Walker's  History  of  Independency.  The  first  is  an 
extraordinary  performance  ;  little  known ;  written  with 
great  temper,  good  sense,  and  spirit — has  the  qualities  of 
a  regular  composition,  which  neither  Ludlow  nor  Whit- 
lock have  ;  the  first  of  whom  is  a  mad  republican,  the 
other,  a  low-spirited  lawyer. 

Your  character  of  Grotius  is  perfectly  just  in  every 
part  of  it. 

The  following  is  a  transcript  from  a  letter  I  received 
from  a  very  worthy  person,  altogether  a  stranger  to  you  : 
"  The  dedication  to  Horace's  Ep.  ad  Augustum  is  worthy 
"  the  patron,  the  author,  and  the  piece.  The  best  in  its 
"  kind  that  was  ever  published,  at  least  that  I  have  met 
"  with.  I  thought  so  of  the  Art  of  Poetry  M'hen  it  was 
"  first  published.  I  am  only  sorry  (such  is  my  temper, 
*'  perhaps  too, much  chagrined  by  the  prospects  and  man- 
"  ners  of  the  times)  to  see  a  Avriter  of  so  much  learning 
"  and  ingenuity  employing  his  time  on  the  laws  of  human 
"  poetry  when  the  divine  lyre  is  almost  silenced,  when 
"  the  great  moralities,  the  measures  of  duty,  and  the 
*'  distinctions  !)etween  the  true  and  false  in  real  life  seem 
"  to  be  dissolved  or  dissolving  amongst  us.     A  true  taste, 

o 


106 

'"  it  must  be  confessed,  is  wanting;  but  far  more  a  trur 
"  faith." — It  would,  I  dare  say,  give  this  honest  man 
great  pleasure  to  know  that  you  are  exactly  in  the  same 
sentiments  concerning  the  condition  of  the  times,  and 
their  need  of  a  speedy  remedy. 

Our  friend,  little  Browne,  seems  to  have  been  no  less 
pleased  with  the  observation  I  communicated  to  him  on 
poor  Law's  folly.  "  Mr.  Hurd's  remark  was  like  the  man 
"  it  came  from  :  like  a  man  who  sees  by  an  early  penetra- 
"  tion  that  which  the  generality  never  find  out  till  they 
"  have  drudged  on  to  the  end  of  life.  I  assure  you,  you 
"  cannot  love  and  esteem  him  more  than  I  do.  I  think 
*'  him  amongst  the  first  rank  of  men  on  every  account." 
Browne  never  said  or  writ  any  thing  that  gave  me  a  better 
opinion  of  his  sense. 

It  may  be  just  worth  while  to  tell  you,  before  I  conclude, 
that  the  small  edition  of  Pope,  which  I  sent  you,  is  the 
correctest  of  all  j  and  I  was  willing  you  should  always  see 
the  best  of  me.  It  was  on  the  same  account  I  sent  the  first 
part  of  the  first  volume  of  the  Divine  Legation,  just  done 
at  the  press. 

Bedford-Roxv^  June  30th^  1753. 


LETTER  LVIl, 

.]/;•.  BUI^D  to  Mr,  WARBURTON. 

Cambridge^  July  2d,  1753. 

U£V.    SIR. 

1  TROUBLED  you  the  other  day  with  along  letter, 
the  main  purpose  of  which  was  to  draw  from  you  some 
instructions  on  a  point  or  two  in  our  history. — Since  that 
I  have  received  your  very  kind  present  of  the  small  edition 


107 

jf  Pope's  works,  together  with  the  first  part  of  the  Divine 
Legation.  I  give  you  my  entire  thanks  for  both.  Though 
my  curiosity  had  not  suffered  me  to  neglect  comparing  the 
second  edition  of  Pope  in  8vo.  with  the  first,  which  you 
gave  me  ;  and  I  had  transcribed  into  it  the  most  material 
corrections  and  alterations.  But  this  smaller  set  is  most 
acceptable  to  me,  both  for  its  being  a  proof  of  your  kind 
remembrance  of  me,  and  also  for  the  neatness  and  conve- 
nient size  of  the  volume,  so  proper  for  that  constant 
pocket  use,  which  such  a  Poet  improved  by  such  a  Critic 
deserves. 

For  the  Divine  Legation,  I  take  it  most  kindly  that  you 
give  me  the  pleasure  of  sharing  in  the  improvements  of 
this  new  edition  so  early.  I  am  glad  to  find  them  so  large 
as  to  cause  a  division  of  the  first  volume  into  two  parts. 
But  of  these  I  shall  say  no  more  till  I  have  taken  time  to 
consider  them,  which,  with  my  first  convenience,  I  mean 
to  do  with  all  possible  attention.  In  one  of  the  blank 
pages  I  found  two  friendly  ivords^  of  which  I  will  only 
say,  they  gave  me  a  pleasure  superior  to  the  little  move- 
ments and  self-gratulations  qf  vanity. 

Amongst  the  alterations  in  Pope,  I  find  you  have  soften- 
ed what  was  said  of  Hutcheson.  I  believe  you  did  this  to 
gratify  my  partiality  to  that  writer,  though  when  I  under- 
stood how  unworthily  he  had  treated  you,  I  was  sorry  for 
having  troubled  you  with  one  word  about  him. — This  ex- 
perience (and  it  is  not  the  first  I  have  had)  of  your  readi- 
ness to  make  alterations  on  such  hints  as  mine,  will  for  the 
future  make  me  very  careful  how  I  presume  to  give  them. 

I  forbear  to  trouble  you  any  farther.  Only,  with  my 
|jest  thanks,  believe  me, 

REV.    SIR, 

Your  very  obliged  and  affectionate 

humble  Servant, 

R,  HURD 


108 


LETTER  LVIII. 

Bedford-Row,  July  mh^  1753. 

1  RECEIVED  your  kind  letter  of  the  2d,  and  could 
not  \cavz  the  town  without  making  you  my  acknowledg- 
ments lor  it. 

I  thought  to  have  stayed  some  little  lime  longer  ;  but 
the  v/*;ather  grows  so  intolerably  hot,  and  the  town  so  thin, 
that  there  is  no  longer  living  in  an  atmosphere  where  the 
pabidwn  mice  grows  so  unfit  both  for  moral  and  natural 
respiration.  The  only  remains  of  taste,  amongst  the 
great,  seemed  to  be  in  their  pleasures :  and  yet,  in  that, 
they  appear  now  to  be  forsaken  of  common  sense.  I 
dined  the  other  day  with  a  lady  of  quality,  who  told  me 
she  was  going  that  evening  to  see  the  Jinest  fireworks  ! 
at  Marybone.  I  said  fireworks  was  a  very  odd  refresh- 
ment for  this  sultry  weather  :  that,  indeed,  Cuper's  Gar- 
dens had  been  once  famous  for  this  summer  entertainment ; 
but  then  his  fireworks  were  so  well  understood,  and  con- 
ducted by  so  superior  an  understanding,  that  they  never 
made  their  appearance  to  the  company  till  they  had  been 
well  cooled  by  being  drawn  through  a  long  canal  of 
water,  with  the  same  kind  of  refinement  that  the  Eastern 
people  smoke  their  tobacco  through  the  same  medium. 

I  forgot  whether  I  mentioned,  in  my  last,  Walker's 
History  of  Independency,  It  is  written  in  a /ambling  way, 
and  with  d  vindictive  Presbyterian  spirit,  full  of  bitterness  ; 
but  it  gives  you  an  admirable  idea  of  the  character  of  the 
times,  parties,  and  persons.  There  is  little  or  nothing  in 
that  enormous  collection  of  Thurloe  worth  notice. 
Rushworth  is  full  of  curiosities ;  Nalson  is  worth  turning 
over.  Whitlock^  that  has  been  so  much  cried  up,  is  a 
meagre  diary,  wrote  by  a  poor  spirited,  self-interested  and 
self-conceited  lawyer  of  eminence  ;  but  full  of  facts.     In 


109 

May's  admirable  History  you  have,  as  I  told  you,  the 
History  of  the  Parliament  while  the  Presbyterians  con- 
tinued uppermost.  If  you  would  know  the  facts  of  Fair- 
fax and  his  Independent  army,  till  the  reduction  of  Oxford 
and  the  King,  you  will  find  them  in  Sprigge's  AngUa  redi- 
viva.  But  you  must  not  expect  to  find  in  this  Parliament- 
Historian,  the  moderation,  sense,  and  composition  of  the 
other.  But  it  is  worth  reading.  And  Walker  tells  us  it 
was  not  Fairfax's  Chaplain  Sprigge,  but  Colonel  Fiennes 
who  composed  it.  There  is,  at  the  end,  a  curious  list  of 
all  Oliver's  commanders,  even  to  the  subalterns. 

I  remember  I  desired  you  to  pay  my  Cousin  Warburton 
some  shillings  for  me.  I  know  you  did  so.  But  I  think 
I  shamefully  forgot  to  repay  you.  Don't  you  forget  to  let 
me  know  what  it  was.  I  am  just  setting  out  for  Lincoln- 
shire, where  I  shall  stay  about  eight  or  ten  days,  and  so 
return  cross  the  country  home.  Wherever  I  am,  you  have 
the  most  aflfectionate  friend,  &c. 


LETTER  LIX. 

Prior-Park^  August  16th,  1753. 

I  AM  vexed,  as  well  as  you,  at  the  miscarriage  of  the 
letter.*  For  though  I  don't  know  what  I  said  in  it,  yet  I 
know   with   what  freedom  I  say  every  thing  to  you. 

As  I  am  uncertain  what  you  have  received  in  answer  to 
your  query,  I  shall  give  you  all  I  have  to  say  upon  it,  over 
again. 

In  studying  this  period,  the  most  important,  the  most 
wonderful  in  all  history,    I  suppose  you  will  make   Lord 

*  The  letter  here  supposed  to  have  been  lost,  but  which  came  to  ray  hands 
;.rterwards,  was  that  of  the  30th  of  June,  inserted  in  its  place.     If. 


no  ♦ 

Ciarendon"'s  incomparable  performance  your  ground-work. 
I  think  it  will  be  understood  to  advantage,  by  reading,  as 
an  introduction  to  it,  Rapin's  reign  of  James  I.  and  the 
first  14  years  of  Charles  I. 

After  this  Avill  follow  fVhithcPs  31emoirs.  It  is  only  a 
journal  or  diary,  very  ample  and  full  of  important  matters. 
The  writer  was  learned  in  his  own  profession  ;  thought 
largely  in  religion,  by  the  advantage  of  his  friendship  with 
Selden  :  for  the  rest  he  is  vain  and  pedantic  ;  and,  on  the 
whole,  a  little  genius. 

Ludloto's  Memoirs^  as  to  its  composition,  is  below  criti- 
cism ;  as  to  the  matter,  curious  enough.  With  what  spirit 
written,  you  may  judge  by  his  character,  which  was  that  of 
a  furious,  mad,  but  I  think,  apparently  honest,  Republican, 
and  independent. 

May* s  History  of  the  Parliament  is  a  ^^st  composition, 
according  to  the  rules  of  history.  It  is  written  with  much 
judgment,  penetration  manliness,  and  spirit;  and  with  a 
candour  that  will  greatly  increase  your  esteem,  when  you 
understand  that  he  wrote  by  order  of  his  masters,  the  Par- 
liament. It  breaks  off  (much  to  the  loss  of  the  history  of 
that  time)  just  when  their  armies  were  new  modelled  by 
the  self-denymg  ord'mancc.  This  loss  was  attempted  to 
be  supplied  by 
Spr'igge'^s  History  of  Fairfax's  exploits — non  passihus  cequis 
He  was  chaplain  to  the  General.  Is  not  altogether  devoid 
o{  May'^s  candour,  though  he  has  little  of  his  spirit.  Walker 
says  it  was  written  by  the  famous  Colonel  Fiennes,  though 
under  Sprigge's  name.  It  is  altogether  a  military  histoi}-, 
as  the  following  one  of  Walker  called  The  History  of  Inde- 
pendency^ is  a  civil  one :  or  rather  of  the  nature  of  » 
political  pamphlet  against  the  Independents.  It  is  full  of 
curious  anecdotes  ;  though  written  with  much  fury,  by  a 
wrathful  Presbyterian  member,  who  was  cast  out  of  the 
saddle  with  the  rest  by  the  Independents. 


Ill 

Milton  was  even  with  him,  in  the  fine  and  severe  cha- 
racter he  draws  of  the  Presbyterian  administration,  which 
you  will  find  in  the  beginning  of  one  of  his  books  of  the  His- 
tory of  England,  in  the  late  uncastrated  editions.  In  the 
course  of  the  study  of  these  writers,  you  will  have  perpe- 
tual occasion  to  verify  or  refute  what  they  deliver,  by  turn- 
ing over  the  authentic  pieces  in  Nalson's,  and  especially 
Rushworth's  voluminous  collections,  which  are  vastly 
curious  and  valuable. 

The  Elenchus  motuum  of  Bates,  and  Sir  Philip  War- 
wick's Memoirs^  may  be  worth  reading.  Nor  must  that 
strange  thing  of  Hobbes  be  forgot,  called  The  History  of 
the  Civil  Wars :  it  is  in  dialogue,  and  full  of  paradoxes, 
like  all  his  other  writings.  More  philosophical,  political — 
or  any  thing  rather  than  historical ;  yet  full  of  shrewd  obser- 
vations. When  you  have  digested  the  history  of  this 
period,  you  will  find  in  Thurloe's  large  Collection  many 
letters  that  will  let  you  thoroughly  into  the  genius  of  these 
times  and  persons. 

It  would  be  vile,  indeed,  for  this  age,  if  such  a  man  as 
you  had  not  more  than  one  or  two  of  such  friends  as  he 
you  speak  of,  where  you  now  are.  However,  they  are 
not  so  common  but  that  I  particularly  honour  this  friend  of 
yours,  and  desire  that  you  would  tell  him  so.  But  though 
I  do  not  grudge  him  the  having  you  at  present,  I  shall  grow 
very  angry  if  you  don't  contrive  very  soon  to  let  us  have 
our  share.  Above  all,  how  is  your  health  ?  what  is  your 
regimen,  and  where  is  your  designation,  by  the  decree  of 
your  physician  ?  To  what  element  has  he  doomed  you  ?  It 
to  the  water,  we  have  a  chance  for  you.  If  to  the  air> 
these  mountains  have  a  right  to  you.  None  but  the  old 
Monk-Physicians  have  a  pretence  to  prescribe  fire  :  or  you 
would  be  in  danger.  Under  any  physician  you  will  be  in 
danger  of  the  fourth.  But  I  forbear,  for  the  omen's  sake, 
to  mention  that  last  great  cover  for  mistaken  practice. 


112 


All  here  are  much  and  warmly  yours  ;  as  well  as   mv 
dearest  friend,  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  LX. 

I  A(JKEE  widi  you,  that  our  good  friend  is  a  little 
whimsical  as  a  philosopher,  or  a  poet,  in  his  project  of 
improving  himself  in  men  and  manners  ;  though,  as  a 
fine  gentleman^  extremely  fashionable  in  his  scheme.  But, 
as  I  dare  sa}',  this  is  a  character  he  is  above,  tell  him 
I  would  recommend  to  him  a  voyage  now  and  then  with 
me  round  the  Park  ;  of  ten  times  more  ease,  and  ten 
thousand  times  moi-e  profit,  than  making  the  grand  tour  , 
whether  he  chooses  to  consider  it  in  a  philosophico- 
poetifi'il,  or  in  an  ecclesiastico-political  light. 

Let  us  suppose  his  mind  bent  on  improvements  in  poet- 
ry. What  can  afford  nobler  hints  for  pastoral  than  the 
cows  and  the  milk  v.'omen  at  your  entrance  from  Spring- 
Gardens  ?  As  you  advance,  you  have  noble  subjects  for 
Comedy  and  Farce,  from  one  end  of  the  Mali  to  the  other  ; 
not  to  say  Satire  j  to  which  our  worthy  friend  has  a  kind 
of  propensity. 

As  you  turn  to  the  left,  you  soon  arrive  at  Rosamond'*s- 
Pondy  long  consecrated  to  disastrous  love,  and  elegiac 
poetry.  The  Bird-cage-zvalk,  which  you  enter  next, 
speaks  its  own  influence,  and  inspires  you  with  the  gentle 
spirit  of  IMadrigal  and  Sonnet.  When  we  come  to  Duck- 
Island,  we  have  a  double  chance  for  success,  in  the  geor- 
gic  or  didactic  Poetry,  as  the  Governor  of  it,  Stephen 
Duck,  can  both  instruct  our  friend  in  the  breed  of  his 
wild-fowl,  and  lend  him  of  his  genius  to  sing  their  ge- 
neration';. 


113 

But  now,  in  finishing  our  tour,  we  come  to  a  place  in- 
deed, the  seed-plot  of  Dettingen  and  Fontenoy,  the  place 
of  trumpets  and  kettle-drums,  of  Horse  and  Foot  Guards, 
the  Parade.  The  place  of  Heroes  and  Demi-Gods,  the 
eternal  source  of  the  greater  poetry,  from  whence  springs 
that  acme  of  human  things,  an  epic  poem  ;  to  which  our 
friend  has  consecrated  all  his  happier  hours. 

But  suppose  his  visions  for  the  bays  be  now  changed 
for  the  brighter  visions  of  the  Mitre,  here  still  must  be 
his  circle  ;  which  on  one  side  presents  him  with  those 
august  towers  of  St.  James's,  which,  though  neither 
seemly  nor  sublime,  yet  ornament  that  place  where  the 
balances  are  preserved,  which  weigh  out  liberty  and  proper- 
ty to  the  nations  all  abroad  ;  and  on  the  other,  with  that 
sacred  venerable  dome  of  St.  Peter,  which  though  its 
head  rises  and  remains  in  the  clouds,  yet  carries  in  its 
bowels  the  very  flower  and  quintessence  of  Ecclesiastical 
Policy. 

This  is  enough  for  any  one  who  only  wants  to  studj'^ 
men  for  his  use.  But  if  our  aspiring  friend  would  go 
higher,  and  study  human  nature  in  and  for  itself  he  must 
take  a  much  larger  tour  than  that  of  Europe.  He  must 
go  first  and  catch  her  undressed,  nay,  quite  naked,  in 
North  America  and  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  He  may 
then  examine  how  she  appears  crampt,  contracted,  and 
buttoned  close  up  in  the  strait  tunic  of  law  and  custom,  as 
in  China  and  Japan  ;  or  spread  out,  and  enlarged  above 
the  common  size,  in  the  long  and  flowing  robe  of  enthu- 
siasm, amongst  the  Arabs  and  Saracens.  Or  lastly,  as  she 
flutters  in  the  old  rags  of  worn-out  policy  and  civil  go- 
vernment, and  almost  ready  to  run  back,  naked,  to  the  de- 
serts, as  on  the  Mediterranean  coast  of  Africa.  These, 
tell  him,  are  the  grand  scenes  for  ithe  true  philosopher, 
for  the  citizen  of  the  world,  to  contemplate.     The  tour 


114 

of  Europe  is  like  the  entertainment  that  Plutarch  speaks 
of,  which  Pompey's  host  of  Epirus  gave  him.  There 
were  many  dishes,  and  they,  had  a  seeming  variety ;  but 
when  he  came  to  examine  them  narrowly,  he  found  them 
all  made  out  of  one  hog,  and  indeed  nothing  but  pork 
differently  disguised. 

This  is  enough  for  our  friend.  But  to  you  who  have, 
as  Mr.  Locke  expresses  it,  large^  soimdy  mid  round-about 
sense^  I  have  something  more  to  say.  Though  indeed  I 
perfectly  agree  with  you,  that  a  scholar  by  profession, 
who  knows  how  to  employ  his  time  in  his  study,  for  the 
benefit  ot"  mankind,  would  be  more  than  fantastical,  he 
would  be  mad,  to  go  rambling  round  Europe,  though 
his  fortune  would  permit  him.  For  to  travel  with  profit, 
must  be  when  his  faculties  are  at  the  height ;  his  studies 
matured  ;  and  all  his  reading  fresh  in  his  head.  But  to 
waste  a  considerable  space  of  time?  at  such  a  period  of 
life,  is  worse  than  suicide.  Yet,  foj  all  this,  the  know- 
ledge of  human  nature  (the  only  knowledge,  in  the  largest 
sense  of  it,  worth  a  wise  man's  concern  or  care)  can 
never  be  well  acquired  without  seeing  it  under  all  its 
disguises  and  distortions,  arising  from  absurd  govern- 
ments and  monstrous  religions,  in  every  quarter  of  the 
globe  ;  therefore  I  think  a  collection  of  the  best  Voyagers 
no  despicable  part  of  a  Philosopher's  library.  Perhaps 
there  v/ill  be  Ibund  more  dross  in  this  sort  of  literature, 
even  v/hen  selected  most  carefully,  than  in  any  other.  But 
no  matter  for  that ;  such  a  collection  will  contain  a  great 
and  solid  treasure.* 

The  report  you  speak  of  is  partly  false,  with  a  mixture 
of  truth  ;  and  is  a  thing  that  touches  me  so  little,  that  I  ne- 
ver mentioned  it  to  any  of  my  friends,  who  did  not  chance 
to  ask  about  it.     I  have  no  secrets  that  I  would  have  such 

*  I  have  iiuule  a  tree  use  of  this  fine  letter  in  tfic  "  Dialogues  on  Foreijr. 
•'  Treivcl."     fl. 


115 

to  you.  I  would  have  it  so  to  others,  merely  becauic  it 
is  an  impertinent  thing,  that  concerns  nobody  ;  and  its 
being  in  common  report,  which  nobody  gives  credit  to, 
covers  the  secret  the  better,  instead  of  divulging  it.  The 
simple  fact  is  only  this :  that  not  long  since,  the  Duke  of 
Newcastle  sent  word,  by  a  noble  person,  to  Mr.  Allen, 
that  he  had  a  purpose  of  asking  the  King  for  the  Deanery 
of  Bristol  for  me,  if  it  should  become  vacant  while  he  is 
-in  credit,  as  a  thing  which,  he  supposed,  would  not  be 
unacceptable  to  us,  on  account  of  its  neighbourhood  to 
this  place.  And  now,  my  dearest  friend,  you  have  the 
whole  secret :  and  a  very  foolish  one  it  is.  If  it  comes, 
as  FalstafF  says  of  honour,  it  comes  unlooked  for^  and 
there^s  an  end.  But  he  had  a  good  chance,  because  he 
did  not  deserve  what  he  was  so  indifferent  about.  What 
my  chance  is  by  this  scale,  I  leave  to  be  adjusted  between 
my  friends  and  enemies. 

It  gives  me,  my  dear  friend,  a  sincere  pleasure  to  hear 
that  your  health  seems  to  be  re-established ;  and  that  the 
good  couple  tied  together  for  Jife,  the  mind  and  body, 
are  at  peace  with  one  another.  As  for  spirits^  it  is  like 
love  in  marriage,  it  will  come. hereafter. 

Shall  we  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  at  Christmas  ? 
You  would  likely  meet  the  good  company  you  met  here 
last  Christmas,  I  mean  Mr.  Yorkc's.  You  know,  I  hope, 
the  true  esteem  Mr.  Allen  has  for  you,  and  the  sincere 
pleasure  your  company  gives  him. 


LETTER   LXI. 

Prior-Park^  December  6th^  1753. 

I  HAD  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Mr.   Mason   in  town  : 

but  as  he  said  nothing  of  his  domestic  affairs,  I  thought 

it  would  be  impertinent  to  enter  on  that  subject  with  him. 


116 

The  Jew-bill  is  one  of  those  things  that  characterize  the 

present  age.  The  Bishops  saw  no  harm,  nor  even  inde- 
cency in  it,  to  religion.  The  people  thought  they  saw, 
what  (it  is  beyond  all  question)  ihey  did  not  see.  So  that 
between  the  not  seeing  at  all  and  the  seeing  falsely, 
I  never  met  witli  so  much  wickedness  of  a  persecuting 
spirit  on  one  side,  and  so  much  nonsense  on  both,  as  in 
this  pamphlet  controversy'. 

The  perennial  ebullition  of  St.  John's  I  would  not  call 
St,  Johii's  fount ahi^  but  67.  Johti's  xve/ly  after  the  name  of 
a  mortal  cold  bath  in  Nottinghamshire,  rather  than  from 
Heraclitus's  tve/L  Unless  the  ancients  have  fabled  about  it, 
and  Hudibras's  account  be  only  to  be  depended  on,  that 
if  ever  truth  was  drawn  out  of  it,  it  was  by  those  who  had 
first  put  her  in  ;  which  I  think  is  no  bad  image  of  modern 
controversy,  which  generally  begins  (as  all  scolding  should 
end)  in  sousing  Truth  over  head  and  ears ;  who,  if  she 
proves  long-winded,  may  take  advantage  of  the  inatten- 
tion of  the  disputants  to  every  thing  but  themselves,  to 
emerge  between  them  ;  and  then  both  sides  take  to  them- 
selves the  merit  of  drawing  her  out. 

You  have  sufficiently  shewn  me  with  what  spirit  and  at- 
tention 3"ou  have  applied  vourself  to  one  period  of  histor}', 
by  the  character  you  have  drawn  of  Bishop  Williams.  I 
read  it  to  Mr.  Yorke,  who  had  read  Hacket :  and  he  ad- 
mires your  thorough  penetration  into  Williams's  character, 
and  the  masterly  manner  in  which  it  is  drawn  up.  What 
a  fine  work  had  the  collection  of  "  Heads  of  illustrious 
"■  Men"  been,  had  such  a  character  been  subjoined  to  each, 
instead  of  that  insipid  chronicle  of  their  lives  and  deaths 
drawn  by  Birch. 

I  received  a  very  kind  letter  from  our  excellent  friend 
Mr.  Balguy  just  before  I  came  to  town,  with  some  excel- 
lent remarks  on  the  first  part  of  the  Divine  Legation. 
He  objected  to  the  exactness  of  the  second  syllogism,  in 
which  he   was  certainly  right,  and  I  have  endeavoured   to 


J 17 

reform  it.  But  I  don't  agree  with  him  that  it  is  not  essen- 
tially a  syllogism.  A  man  is  still  a  man,  though  his  arms 
be  in  his  breeches  and  his  legs  in  his  doublet.  (This  I  own 
was  the  condition  of  the  syllogism.)  You  will  say,  indeed, 
that  one  so  dressed  would  make  a  very  ill  figure  at  Court, 
and  the  other  in  the  Schools.  It  is  true :  yet  the  man 
would  be  found  to  be  a  man  in  Surgeon's-Hall,  and  the 
syllogism,  a  syllogism  by  the  learned  in  the  closet. 

I  sent  our  good  friend,  for  your  amusement,  some  leaves 
on  the  origin,  &c.  of  Idolatry. 


LETTER  LXII. 

THOUGH  I  am  on  the  wing  for  Prior- Park,  I  seize 
a  moment  to  thank  you  for  your  late  kind  visit,  which  has 
left  a  sad  regret  of  you.  I  hope  you  got  safe  home. 
Remember  me  in  the  kindest  manner  to  our  excellent 
friend,  Mr.  Balguy,  and  tell  him  how  impatient  I  shall  be 
to  hear  that  he  is  got  perfectly  recovered. 

I  have  seen  the  books  safely  packed  up,  and  you  will 
receive  them  with  (what  only  can  make  so  paltry  a  present 
excusable)  my  whole  heart,  that  goes  along  with  them 
next  Thursday  by  the  Cambridge  carrier  or  waggon. 

Bedford-Rotv,  3Iaij  28th,  1754. 


LETTER  LXm. 

I  HOPE  this  will  find  you  safe  returned  to  College. 

Our  people  are  yet  out  on  their  ramble,  which  is  con- 
fined to  Surrey  and  Hertfordshire  :  so  that  being  but  in- 
different in  my  health,   and  having  no  inviting  call  to  their 


118 

Tambie,  unless  it  had  been  to  Cambridge,  I  determined 
not  to  return  to  London,  but  stay  here  alone  for  air  and 
cxercisco 

On  Monday  last  Sir  Edward  Littleton  was  so  good  to 
come  and  stay  two  days  with  me.  He  is  a  very  amiable 
young  gentleman.  He  has  very  good  sense,  and  appears 
to  have  strong  impressions  of  virtue  and  honour.  The 
latter  endowments  were  no  other  than  I  expected  from  a 
pupil  of  yours-  He  has  a  perfect  sense  of  his  obligations 
to  you.  But,  my  good  friend,  what  is  the  serving  a  sin- 
gle person,  when  you  have  talents  to  serve  the  world  ?  A 
word  to  the  wise.  Remember  for  what  nature  formed  you, 
and  your  profession  requires  of  you.  Remember  your 
great  scheme. 

In  the  mean  time,  let  me  not  forget  to  tell  you  that  I 
think  a  dialogue  between  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer 
and  his  friend  Falkland,  concerqing  the  Clergy  of  that 
time,  (about  which  they  much  differed,)  would  make  a  fine 
dialogue  in  your  hands.  How  well  might  your  masterly 
character  of  Williams  come  in  here  ? 

I  told  Sir  Edward  that  you  said  you  proposed  to  visit 
your  friends  in  Staffordshire  this  Summer  :  and  that  I 
hoped  you  would  not  foi^et  your  friends  in  Somersetshire 
in  Winter.  I  write  under  a  bad  head-ach  ;  but  can't  for- 
bear telling  you,  before  I  conclude,  that  I  go  on  with  my 
View  of  Bolingbroke. 

God  preserve  you  in  health.  All  other  true  blessings 
you  will  procure  for  vourself.  If  you  will  be  so  com- 
plaisant to  reckon  our  friendship  amongst  them,  I  will  be  so 
modest  to  own,  what  is  very  true,  that  it  is  the  very  lowest 
in  your  number. 

Let  me  know  how  your  health  goes  on. 

Prior-Parky  June  27th^  1754. 


119' 

LETTER  LXIV. 

Mr.  HURD  to  Mr.  WARBURTON. 

REV.    SIR, 

I  THANK  you  for  your  kind  favour  of  the  2rth  past. 
Sir  Edward  Littleton  thought  himself  so  much  honoured 
by  your  notice  of  him,  that  I  knew  it  could  not  be  long 
before  he  found  or  made  an  occasion  to  acknowledge  it, 
I  am  very  happy  in  your  candid  opinion  of  him.  He  has 
the  truest  esteem  and  veneration  of  you. 

As  you  give  me  no  hopes  of  seeing  the  excellent  family 
here,  I  shall  set  forward  directly  for  Shiffnal,  in 
Shropshire,  where  I  propose  staying  till  the  end  of  the 
month,  and  shall  then  return,  by  the  way  of  Sir  Edward 
Littleton's,  to  Cambridge. 

Mr.  Balguy  is  to  meet  me  there,  on  invitation,  from. 
Buxton. — But  if  there  was  not  more  in  the  matter,  I  be- 
lieve my  laziness  would  find  pretences  to  excuse  me  from 
the  trouble  of  this  long  journey.  The  truth  is,  I  go  to 
pass  some  time  with  two  of  the  best  people  in  the  world, 
to  whom  I  owe  the  highest  duty,  and  have  all  possible 
obligation. 

I  believe  I  never  told  you  how  happy  I  am  in  an  ex- 
cellent father  and  mother,  very  plain  people  you  may  be 
sure,  for  they  are  farmers,  but  of  a  turn  of  mind  that 
might  have  honoured  any  rank  and  any  education.  With 
very  tolerable,  but  in  no  degree  affluent  circumstances, 
their  generosity  was  such,  they  never  regarded  any  ex- 
pense that  was  in  their  power,  and  almost  out  of  it,  in 
whatever  concerned  the  welfare  of  their  children.  We 
are  three  brothers  of  us.  The  eldest  settled  very  reputa- 
bly in  their  own  way,  and  the  youngest  in  the  Birmingham 
trade.     For  myself,  2l  poor  scholar^  as  you  know,  I  am  al- 


120 

most  ashamed  to  own  to  you  how  solicitous  they  always 
were  to  furnish  me  with  all  the  opportunities  of  the  best 
and  most  liberal  education.  My  case  in  so  many  particu- 
lars resembles  that  which  the  Roman  poet  describes  as  his 
own,  that  with  Pope's  wit  I  could  apply  almost  every  cir- 
cumstance of  it.  And  if  ever  I  were  to  wish  in  earnest 
to  be  a  poet,  it  would  be  for  the  sake  of  doing  justice  to  so 
uncommon  a  virtue.  I  should  be  a  wretch  if  I  did  not 
conclude,  as  he  does, 

si  Nutiira  juberet 

A  cerlis  annis  sevum  remeare  peracturo, 
Atque  alios  legere  ad  fastum  quoscunque  parentes, 
Optaret  sibi  quisque  :  meis  contentus,  oniistos 
Fascibus  et  sellis  nolim  mihi  sumere  :  demens 
Judicio  vulgi,  sanus  fortasse  tuo. 

In  a  word,  when  they  had  fixed  us  in  such  a  rank  of 
life  as  they  designed,  and  believed  should  satisfy  us,  they 
very  wisely  left  the  business  of  the  world  to  such  as  want- 
ed it  more,  or  liked  it  better.  They  considered  what  age 
and  declining  health  seemed  to  demand  of  them,  reserv- 
ing to  themselves  only  such  a  support  as  their  few  and 
little  wants  made  them  think  sufficient.  I  should  beg  par- 
don for  troubling  you  with  this  humble  history  ;  but 
the  subjects  of  it  are  so  much  and  so  tenderly  m  my 
thoughts  at  present,  that  if  I  writ  at  all,  I  could  hardly 
help  writing  about  them. 

1  shall  long  to  hear  that  you  have  put  the  last  hand  to 
the  View  of  Bolingbroke.  If  ever  you  write  above  your- 
self, it  is  when  your  zeal  for  truth  and  religion  animates  you 
to  expose  the  ignorance  of  foolish  men. 

The  subject  you  mention,  and  some  others  you  hinted 
to  me  when  I  spent  that  happy  day  with  you  at  London, 
would  do  excellently  for  dialogue.  But  what  of  this  sort 
my  idleness  will  give  my  little  powers  leave  to  execute,  I 
know  not. 


151 

"What  I  am  most  confident  of,  is  that  I  am  ever  most 
warmly,  &c. 

R.  KURD. 

Cambridge,  July  ^d,  1754. 


LETTER    LXV. 

YOU  could  not  have  obliged  me  more  than  by  bring- 
ing me  acquainted,  as  you  do  in  your  last  kind  letter,  with 
persons  who  can  never  be  indifferent  to  me  when  so  near 
to  you.  Sir  Edward  Littleton  had  told  me  great  things  of 
them  ;  and  from  him  I  learnt  that  virtue  and  good  sense 
are  hereditary  amongst  you,  and  family  qualities.  And 
as  to  filial  piety,  I  knew  it  could  not  but  crown  all  the  rest 
of  yovir  admirable  endowments.  Pray  make  me  acquaint- 
ed with  your  good  Father  and  Mother :  tell  them  how 
sincerely  I  congracuiate  M'ith  them  on  the  honour  of  such 
a  Son ;  and  how  much  I  share  in  their  happiness  on  that 
head. 

Sir  Edward  oft  sees  your  elder  brother  and  speaks  of 
him  as  the  best  companion  he  has — indeed,  in  a  very  ex- 
traordinary manner  of  his  abilities.  Your  other  brother 
was,  I  was  told,  not  long  since  amongst  the  trading  towns 
in  this  neighbourhood,  where  he  fell  into  company  at 
dinner  with  some  of  our  Somersetshire  Clergy,  by  whom 
he  was  much  caressed  on  hearing  to  whom  he  was  re- 
lated. 

Sir  Edward  and  his  Lady  came  yesterday  to  pay  us  a 
visit,  where  he  was  treated  with  all  the  hospitality  you 
have  seen,  and  v/ith  all  the  cordiality,  by  Mr.  Allen,  of  a 
friend  of  Mr.  Hurd's.  Sir  Edward  leaves  Bristol  on 
Tuesday.  They  are  a  most  amiable  couple.  The  women 
here  were  extremely  taken  with  Lady  Littleton,  and  par- 


122 

ticularly  your  friend  my  name-sake.  I  should  have  told 
you  that  lust  week  she  and  I  went  to  pay  them  a  visit  to 
Bristol ;  a  place  I  have  not  been  to  of  some  years,  and 
which  a  less  occasion  would  not  have  drawn  me  to.  We 
past  by  the  Deanery-house,  in  our  way  to  the  Hot  Wells. 
I  know  you  smile.  But  if  you  and  the  Duke  of  Newcas- 
tle knew  with  what  indifference,  I  should  be  much  despised, 
at  least  by  one  of  you. 

All  here  are  much  yours,  and  expect  you  in  Winter. 
Next  Summer  they  propose  seeing  you  at  Cambridge,  in 
their  return  from  a  visit  to  Lord  Leicester. 

Prior-Park,  July  14t/i,  1754. 


LETTER    LXVI. 

i  RECEIVED  your  kind  letter,  which  informed  me 
of  your  return  to  Cauibridge,  and  I  Tiope  from  your  si- 
lence, and  what  Mr.  Ealguy  in  a  letter  mentions,  in 
perfect  health. 

We  received  the  highest  pleasure  in  Sir  Edward  and 
Lady  Littleton's  company,  and  conceived  the  highest  es- 
teem for  them.  My  wite  thought  herself  much  honoured 
in  Lady  Littleton's  kind  invitation  into  Staffordshire,  and 
reckons  upon  doing  herself  that  honour.  She  is  now  in 
Dorsetshire,  with  Mrs.  Pitt ;  and  the  rest  of  the  family 
at  Weymouth. 

The  Attorney*  is  now  using  the  Bath  waters  several 
ways.  I  engaged  myself  to  attend  him  here ;  and  so  was 
unable  to  attend  Mr.  Charles  Yorke  to  Weymouth,  who 
was  very  desirous  of  going  thither  to  spend  the  vacation 
with  me.  He  is  rambled  into  Staffordshire,  but  I  hope 
■will  come  up  hither  in  his  return  from  the  North.  I  am 
very  sorry  for  what  you  tell  me,  that  Lady  Littleton  has 
*  Mr.  Murray.    Jf. 


123 

not  found  that  benefit  by  the  Bristol  waters  that  might  be 
expected.     She  must  repeat  them. 

As  to  my  "  View  of  Bolingbroke,"  it  is  divided  into 
four  letters.  The  first  on  his  'Temper^  the  second  on  his 
Principles^  the  third  and  fourth  on  his  Talents.  The  two 
first,  which  will  make  about  twelve  sheets  octavo,  I  pro- 
pose pubhshing  alone  as  soon  as  printed,  which  will  be  in 
three  weeks  or  a  month. 

I  tell  it  you  in  confidence,  I  am  apprehensive  of  dis- 
pleasing some  by  it  whom  I  most  honour ;  and  at  a  cri- 
tical time.  So  that,  I  solemnly  assure  you,  nothing  but 
the  sense  of  indispensable  duty  as  a  Christian  and  a  Cler- 
gyman could  have  induced  me  to  run  the  hazard  of  doing 
myself  so  much  injury.  But,  jacta  fiiit  alea.  All  other 
considerations  are  now  passed  with  me.  And  let  Provi- 
dence takes  its  course  without  any  solicitude  on  my  part. 
I  keep  the  thing  a  secret.  But  I  suppose,  amongst  the 
perpetual  guesses  at  an  anonymous  author,  my  name  will 
come  into  the  list. 

You  know  so  much  of  my  love  for  Jirst  parts^  that 
perhaps  you  will  think  the  two  last  letters  won't  appear, 
or  that  I  wait  to  try  how  the  first  will  fare.  No  such 
matter.  I  go  on  with  the  two  last,  and  they  will  be  pub- 
lished about  six  weeks  after.  Your  distance  from  me 
while   I  am  doing  this  thing,  is  an  inconvenience  to  me. 

Bolingbroke  says,  some  where  or  other,  that  the  belief 
of  Revelation  has  been  gradually  decaying  ever  since  the 
revival  of  letters.  But  I  can't  find  the  place,  which  I 
want  for  a  sermon,  not  for  these  letters.  If  you  can  find 
it,  or  know  where  to  seek  for  it,  be  so  good  to  mark  the 
volume  and  page. 

Prior- Par k^  September  7th,  1754. 
P.  S.  What  1  said  just  above  of  my  want   of  you,  was 
my  accidentally  reading  this   morning  your  letter  t© 
Weston.     I'he  best  primiticf  of  any  young   divine, 
ever  written. 


124 


LETTER  LXVII. 

ERE  this  you  will  see  the  two  first  letters  of  the  View~ 
published.  The  truth  is,  I  grew  a  little  tired  of  such  a 
writer.  You  will  see  there  is  a  continued  apology  for  the 
Clergy :  yet  they  will  neither  love  me  the  more,  nor  forgive 
me  the  sooner,  for  all  I  can  say  in  their  behalf.  This  I 
have  experienced  in  a  former  apology  for  them.  I  won't 
tell  you  where,  but  leave  you  to  guess,  as  a  punishment  for 
the  mortification  you  gave  me  for  never  mentioning  once 
to  me  a  discourse  that  I  most  value  myself  upon. 

Before  Bolingbroke's  Works  were  published,  I  but 
guessed  concerning  his  system  of  the  moral  attributes  Irom 
what  he  dropped  in  one  of  his  published  things.  For 
though  the  first  and  second  Essay  had  been  shewn  me  by 
Mr.  Pope,  and  afterwards  by  Mr.  Yorke,  as  neither  of 
them  put  them  into  my  hands,  I  had  no  curiosity  of  read- 
ing more  of  them  in  theirs  than  particular  passages  of  an- 
other kind  which  they  shewed  me  :  yet  I  guessed  well,  as 
you  will  see  by  the  use  I  make  of  three  quotations  from 
the  sermon  on  God's  moral  Government. 

I  hope  to  have  the  second  volume  of  Sermons  out  by 
the  middle  of  next  month,  and  the  first  volume  of  Divine 
Legation,  soon  after  ;  so  you  see  I  am  winding  up  my  bot- 
toms— a  ravelled  business,  if  my  answerers  are  to  be  believ- 
ed. But  (to  use  the  expression  of  an  old  formal  Divine  of 
my  acquaintance,  who  did  not,  I  will  assure  you,  apply 
it  to  me  but  to  a  very  prudent  man  of  his  acquaintance) 
J  have  all  mi/  ends  before  me. 

You  see  in  the  papers  an  article  that  relates  to  me.  It 
may  be  so,  or  it  may  not,  for  I  have  no  account  of  it. 
^VMicn  I  know  the  trutii  of  it,  you  shall.  They  know  1 
can  hold  nothing  in  an}'  of  the  new-founded  Churches 
along  with   the   Prebend  of  Gloucester  (Bristol    is  one) 


125 

without  being  King's  Chaplain.  On  this  account  I  had  a 
promise  very  lately  ;  but  whether  the  performance  will 
follow  so  soon  is  a  great  question. 

You  don't  forget  where  you  are  to  spend  your  Christ- 
mas. And  I  don't  forget  you  are  not  a  man  to  be  pressed 
to  any  in  conveniences,  merely  to  do  others  pleasure. 

Prior- Park^  September  SOtfi^  1754. 

P.  S.  I  am  here  alone.  The  family  is  not  yet  return- 
ed. But  I  spend  my  time  very  agreeably  with  the 
Attorney. 


LETTER  LXVIII. 

Bedford-Row^  October  14t/i,  1754. 

I  TOLD  you  I  would  write  again  when  I  knew  more 
of  that  trifling  affair  than  by  the  newspaper.  I  am  come 
up  to  be  in  waiting,  as  they  call  it,  this  latter  half  of  the 
month :  being  added  to  that  illustrious  list,  the  terror  of 
Rome  and  Geneva  ;  and  often  of  King  George  himself^ 
by  Sermons  of  an  hour  long.  There  is  at  present  a  young 
man*  in  waiting,  v;hom  I  never  saw  nor  heard  of  before  ; 
but  he  renders  himself  respectable  to  me  by  claiming  ac- 
quaintance with  you  and  Mr.  Balguy.  But  this  is  more 
than  enough  on  so  silly  a  subject. 

I  hope  to  send  you  the  second  volume  of  my  Sermons 
very  soon.  There  is  one,  as  I  told  you,  on  the  influence 
of  Learning-  on  Revelation.  You  won't  much  like  it ;  for 
I  do  not.  It  by  no  means  pleases  me.  I  could  say  nothing 
to  the  purpose  ;  and  when  it  was  too  late,  I  found  it  was  a 
subject  for  a  volume.     I  like  the  other  sermon  on  the  Mar- 

*  Mr.  Wright,  of  Romelcy,  Derbysliire  ;  vlio  had  been  educated  at  St 
John's,  Cambridge.       // 


126 

riage  union  better.  It  is  more  simple.  But  the  nature  of 
the  subject  gave  it  this  advantage.  In  my  last  I  hinted  that 
you  had  never  laid  your  thumb  on  the  discourse  I  liked 
best.  As  I  said  before,  I  will  give  you  no  directions  to 
guess  at  my  meaning ;  not  so  much  as  tell  you  whether 
it  be  in  this  volume. 

Our  honest  little  friend  Browne  is  fertile  in  projects. 
He  has  a  scheme  to  erect  a  Chaplain  and  Chapel  in  the 
Castle  of  Carlisle,  and  to  be  himself  the  man.  Inter  nosy 
I  believe  he  might  as  well  think  of  erecting  a  third  Arch- 
bishopric. He  wrote  to  me  for  Sir  J.  Ligonier's  interest 
with  the  Duke ;  whose  application  there  would  be  enough 
to  blast  the  project,  could  he  ever  bring  it  to  blossom.  I 
was  sorry  I  had  a  necessity  to  tell  him  this,  because  it  was 
a  thing  not  to  be  spoke  of.  And  now  1  have  done  so,  I 
question  whether  he  will  credit  it. 

Remember  we  expect  you  at  Christmas,  or  at  your  best 
leisure  before  or  after.  But  above  all  remember  how  dear 
you  are  to  me,  and  continue  to  love  your  most  affectionate* 
&c. 


LETTER  LXIX. 

I  NEED  not  tell  you  how  proud  I  am  of  your  appro- 
bation ;  or,  to  speak  more  properly,  of  your  partiality  for 
me. 

To  tell  you  truth,  I  did  mean  the  Thanksgiving  sermon. 
Though  I  shall  readily  own  myself  mistaken,  now  you  are 
of  another  opinion.  A  small  parcel  will  come  directed  to 
you  by  Thurlbourn  ;  in  which  you  will  find  a  sermon  book 
for  j'ourself,  Mr.  Balguy,  Mr.  Browne,  and  my  cousin, 
of  Jesus. 


127 

Mr.  Mason  has  called  upon  me.  I  found  him  yet  un_ 
resolved  whether  he  should  take  the  living.  I  said,  was 
the  question  about  a  mere  secular  employment,  I  should 
blame  him  without  reserve  if  he  refused  the  offer.  But  as 
I  regarded  going  into  orders  in  another  light,  I  frankly 
owned  to  him,  he  ought  not  to  go,  unless  he  had  a  call: 
by  which  I  meant,  I  told  him,  nothing  fanatical  or  super- 
stitious ;  but  an  inclination,  and,  on  that,  a  resolution,  to 
dedicate  all  his  studies  to  the  service  of  religion,  and  totally 
to  abandon  his  poetry.  This  sacrifice,  I  said,  I  thought 
was  required  at  any  time,  but  more  indispensably  so  in 
this,  when  we  are  fighting  with  Infidelity  pro  aris  etfocis. 
This  was  what  I  said  ;  and  I  will  do  him  the  justice  to  say, 
that  he  entirely  agreed  with  me  in  thinking,  that  decency, 
reputation,  and  religion,  all  required  this  sacrifice  of  him  ; 
and  that,  if  he  went  into  orders,  he  intended  to  give  it. 

To  your  question,  I  ask  another, 

Hast  thou,  O  Sun  !  beheld  an  emptier  sort 
Than  such  as  swell  this  bladder  of  a  Court  ? 

So  sings  Pope,  aiwl  so  says  his  Commentator.  But  I  am 
glad  tor  (what  you  hint  is)  the  occasion  of  asking.  I  hope 
the  Dialogues  are  not  dropt. 

Bedfard-Roxv,  October  24th,  1754, 


LETTER  LXX, 

YOU  disappointed  me  in  reading  that  imperfect  first 
edition  of  the  Thanksgiving  sermon.  However,  you  are 
right :  the  other  is  to  be  preferred  for  the  happy  disposition 
of  the  subject. 

Send  me  another  dialogue,  and  I  will  forget  and  forgive. 
I  will  forget  the  trash  that  goes  under  that  name,  and 


128 

forgive  your  indolence,  which  is  less  pardonable  in  you 
than  in  any  body  I  know.  What  is  become  of  our  good 
friend  Mr.  Balguy,  and  how  is  his  health  ? 

You  expect  perhaps  I  should  tell  you  of  the  wonders  I 
met  with  in  this  new  Elysium.  I  found  hut  two  things  to 
admire,  as  excellent  in  their  kinds  ;  the  one  is  the  beef- 
eaters, wiiose  broad  faces  bespeak  such  repletion  of  body 
and  inanition  of  mind  as  perfectly  fright  away  those  two 
enemies  of  man,  famine  and  thought.  The  other  curiosity 
is  our  table-decker,  of  so  placid  a  mien  and  so  entire  a  taci- 
turnity, (both  of  them  improved  by  the  late  elopement  of 
his  wife,)  that  he  is  much  fitter  for  the  service  of  a  Minister 
of  State  than  of  the  Gospel.  In  short,  I  found  him  the 
only  reasonable  man  not  to  converse  with. 

Bedford-Roxv^  October  2Sth^  1754. 


LETTER  LXXI. 

Bedford-Roxv^  November  ISth,  1754. 

I  AM  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  kind  letter  of  the 
11th. 

You  convince  me,  by  the  three  instances  which  you  so 
acutely  enforce,  that  the  sermons  are  eminently  faulty,  in 
not  sufficiently  developing  the  subjects. 

First,  I  speak,  p.  116,  of  exclusion  from  a  religious 
society's  being  unattended  with  civil  incapacities;  yet 
Dissenters  from  the  established  Religion  I  hold  to  be  just- 
ly liable  to  civil  incapacities.  In  p.  116,  I  consider  the 
established  Religion  (as  I  expressmyself  p.  196,  of  the  Alli- 
ance^ only  under  its  most  siynple  form^  that  is,  rvhere  there 
is  but  one  Religion  in  the  state.  Now  a  particular,  (of 
whom  I  am  speaking,  p.  116,  of  the  Sermons,)  whom  I 
edll^  private  member^  when  expelled  is  subject  to  7io  civil 


129 

incapacities ;  those  incapacities  arise  afterwards,  from  a 
Test-Law,  which  is  of  no  use  till  there  be  a  formidable 
religious  society  c^rown  up,  opposite  to  the  established. 

Secondly.  Nature  and  human  societtj  alone  seem  not  to 
determine  against  Polygximy.  Wliy  I  said  so  was,  because 
it  was  allowed  to  the  Jews ;  and  I  apprehend  nothing 
was  indulged  them  against  the  law  of  nature. 

Thirdly.  In  my  comment  on  the  apostolical  decree,  I 
hold  that  the  fornication,  there  mentioned,  signifies  the 
Jewish  prohibited  degrees,  and  that  this  was  positive,  not 
moral :  yet  speaking  of  the  marriage-union,  so  far  as  it 
regards  the  prohibited  degrees,  I  say,  it  holds  of  nature. 
Now  to  reconcile  this,  1  observe,  that  the  prohibited 
degrees  prescribed  by  nature,  is  one  thing;  those  prescri- 
bed by  the  Jewish  law,  anothei-.  The  Jewish  law  indeed 
took  in  the  degrees  forbid  by  nature ;  but  they  added 
others,  not  forbid  by  nature  ;  and  these  are  they  that, 
in  contradistinction  to  the  degrees  prohibited  by  nature, 
I  call  the  Jewish  prohibited  degrees.  And  I  think  justly. 
For  it  never  could  have  been  a  question  amongst  the  Apos- 
tolic Christians,  whether  the  degrees,  which  nature  for- 
bade, should  be  transgressed  ;  but  only  whether  those 
which  the  Jewish  law  forbade,  should  be  abstained  from. 
So  that  p.  106,  speaking  of  the  former,  I  might  well  say, 
theij  hold  of  nature :  p.  120,  speaking  of  the  latter,  that 
they  were  positive  laws.  By  the  way,  the  constitution  of 
Moses's  prohibited  degrees  was  admirable;  as  that  people 
had  no  commerce  with  any  other,  there  was  a  necessity 
of  crossing  the  strain  as  much  as  possible;  naturalists 
observing  that  even  all  plants  as  well  as  animals  degenerate 
when  that  provisirn  is  not  made. 

In  order  to  keep  a  due  balance  on  so  nice  subjects  as 
Church  authority  and  Church  communioii^  I  chose,  under 
each  head,  two  texts  to  discourse  on,  that  had  a  seeming 


130 

contrary  tendency,  as  call  no  man  father^   and  the  Scribe fi^ 
and  Pharisees  sit  271  3Ioses^s   seat.     And  again — he  that 
is  not  against  us,  is  xvith  us — and  keep  the  unity  of  the 
spirit:  so  that  it  was  difficult,  while  I  strove  to  preserve  a 
temper,  not  to  fall  into  contradictions. 

Pray  nriake  my  best  compliments  to  our  good  friend 
Master  Doctor  Browne,  (to  address  him  in  the  old  style, 
•while  I  am  uncertain  of  his  new,j  and  greet  him  on  his  fresh 
honours :  I  thank  him  for  his  letter,  which,  as  we  shall 
see  him  so  soon,  I  forbear  to  trouble  him  with  the  further 
acknowledgment  of.  He  knows  he  is  always  welcome  to 
Prior-Park.     I  propose  returning  by  the  25th. 

But  hark  you,  at  what  time  are  we  to  expect  you  at 
Prior-Park  ?  or  must  it  be  my  constant  fate  not  to  see 
those  1  would  ?  Will  you  contrive  to  come  down  .with 
him?  will  )'ou  come  before?  will  you  come  after?  Take 
notice  this  is  my  principal  concern.  You  know  how  dear 
you  are  to  me,  and  I  know  how  much  you  love  me ;  so 
that  there  needs  nothing  to  be  enforced,  in  our  own  power, 
to  bring  us  together. 


LETTER  LXXII. 

I  HOPE  by  this  time  you  and  Mr.  Balguy  have  got  the 
Divine  Legation. 

Pray  tell  me  what  people  say  of  the  Dedication*  to  the 
Chancellor.  I  ask  it,  because  one  day  it  will  afford  subject 
for  our  speculations.  I  will  not  ask  your  own  opinion, 
because  I  know  your  partiality  to  m«.  Besides,  the 
asking  such  a  thing  is  only  begging  a  compliment ;    and 

*  Tiic  topics  in  il  were  suggested,  and  the  vcrj  language  in  wliicli  tliey  ai'e 
expressed,  wat  in  great  measure  dictated  by  Mr.  Murray  and  Mr.  (Jliarle^ 
Y.uke.     H. 


131 

isome  time  or  other  you  will  know,  that,  at  this  time 
at  least,  X  wanted  not  a  compliment,  as  fond  as  I  may 
be  of  them,  but  the  real  sentiments  of  good  judges.  All 
this  will  puzzle  you  still  more,  because  I  half  suspect 
the  Dedication  is  not  what  you  looked  for.  But  keep  all 
this  to  yourself.  For  so  much  I  have  not  said,  nor  would 
say  to  any  one  but  to  you,  personally. 

But  why  do  I  hear  no  more  of  the  Dialogues  ?  Don't 
vou  think  that  age  in  want  of  a  little  truth  and  sense,  which 
gave  credit  to  the  Bottle-man,  and  applauses  to  Orrery's 
Letters,  of  which  the  bookseller  told  me  he  has  sold 
twelve  thousand  ? 

I  go  on,  pushing  this  grand  enemy  of  God  and  godli- 
ness. But  what  I  predicted  to  you,  I  am  sorry  to  tell 
you,  I  have  experienced  to  be  true,  xh7xtlx.xe.diAper  cine  res 
dolosos.  However,  my  duty  tells  me  this  is  a  capital  case, 
and  I  must  on.  All  I  can  do  for  my  own  interest,  is  this  ; 
I  believe  I  must  be  forced  to  have  an  apology  for  these 
Letters  at  the  end  of  the  fourth.  You  will  say,  every  thing 
considered,  that  this  is  hard  upon  me.  I  think  it  very 
hard :  but  we  must  take  the  world  as  we  find  it. 

We  are  all  rejoiced  with  the  hopes  of  seeing  you  in 
Summer.  Mr.  Allen  this  year  goes  but  once  to  Weymouth, 
and  it  will  be  the  latter  end  of  July.  What  say  you  of 
comin  to  me  in  London  when  Trinity  term  ends,  and  ac- 
companying me  in  my  post-chaise  to, Prior-Park  ;  staying 
with  us  there  till  the  family  sets  forward  to  Weymouth, 
and  accompanying  it  thither  to  drink  the  water  and  bathe  ? 
This,  I  hope,  will  be  greatly  conducive  to  your  health  and 
spirits.  Mine  (I  mean  my  spirits)  at  this  present  writing 
are  just  exhausted,  as  you  may  see  by  this  scrawl.  But 
my  last  will  bear  the  memory  of  our  love  and  friendship., 

.Prior-Park^  December  lOth,  1754. 


X32 


LETTER  LXXIII. 

YOU  characterize  the  subject  of  your  new  Dialogue* 
very  jusily.  But  for  all  that,  1  Irave  not  the  less,  but  the 
more  appetite  to  devour  it.  One  of  your  dialogists,  to 
the  shame  of  our  hearts  and  heads,  is  forgotten ;  and  it 
would  be  as  well  if  the  other  (except  on  this  occ£{sion  to 
be  exposed  to  contempt)  were  forgotten.  But  pray  let  me 
have  it  as  soon  as  you  can. 

I  don't  wonder  at  vour  astonishment  at  the  cineres  dohsu 
It  surprised  me,  who  knew  the  men  I  have  to  deal  with  a 
little  better.  I  have  finished  the  third  letter,  which, 
together  with  iTiy  ApoKogy,  will  be  published  as  soon  as 
they  can  be  printed,  without  waiting  for  the  fourth,  which 
will   be  near  as  big  as  the  oiher  three. 

I  had  forgot  in  my  last  to  mention  what  you  say  of 
Polygamy.  I  think  it  a  very  puzzling  question  ;  and 
see,  with  you,  great  difficulties  which  side  soever  I 
take,  whether  for  its  conformity  to  the  law  of  nature,  or 
otherwise. 

You  must  not  think  worse   of than  they  deserve. 

You  understand  me.  It  was  esteemed  a  qiiantmn  siiffcit. 
But  I  had  another  reason  for  my  question.  You  make 
the  best  apology  for  me.  And  indeed  it  is  the  true  one. 
I  am  glad  you  mentioned  March,  for  that  has  determined 
my  resolution.  My  wife  (who  is  always  talking  of  you) 
goes  with  me  to  London  about  the  22d  instant.  Mr.  Allen 
and  family  come  about  the  middle  or  latter  end  of  Febru- 
ary ;  soon  after  which,  I  had  thoughts  of  leaving  them  in 
town,  and  going  either  into  Lincolnshire  or  to  Gloucester. 
But  your  attendance  at  Whitehall  has  determmed  me  to 
attend  you  ;  though,  whether  I  had  been  there  or  no,  you 

'  On  Retirement.     Tf 


133 

know  you  are  always  at  home  in  our  family,  who  are 
much  delighted  with  this  incident.  We  are  then  to  settle 
all  matters  about  your  visit  to  us.  Let  me  know  the 
state  of  your  health,  and  how  this  weather  agrees  with 
you. 

Have  you  not  been  diverted  with  what  you  have  heard 
has  passed  above  ;  which  began  so  furiously,  and  ended  so 
pacifically  ?  It  put  me  inmindof  the  account  a  Duellist  gives 
of  himself  in  Shakespear.  "  I  would  fain,"  says  he, 
"  have  brought  my  adversary  to  the  lie  direct^  and  he 
"  would  go  no  farther  than  the  He  circumstantial ;  so  we 
"  measured  swords,  and  parted  friends." 

Mr.  Allen  and  I  are  alarmed  lest  the  vacancy  at  Litch- 
field should  engage  our  amiable  friend  civilibus  iindis^  and 
plunge  him  over  head  and  ears  in  Party. — In  a  letter  I  just 
received  from  him,  he  was  alarmed  for  your  health,  which, 
he  said,  Browne  gave^  him  a  very  ill  account  of,  and  he 
would  come  over  to  Cambridge  to  see  you.  But  Browne 
says.  Sir  Edward  mistook  him  ;  and  I  hope  he  did.  But 
Sir  Edward  won  my  heart  by  this.  It  was  a  letter  of 
compliment,  so  I  did  not  trouble  him  with  my  answer. 
But  pray,  when  you  write,  don't  forget  my  acknowledg- 
ments to  him  for  it,  in  the  best  manner.  You  are  the 
friend  of  my  soul  ;  so  I  stand  on  no  ceremony  with  you  ; 
I  write  just  as  I  would  pour  myself  into  your  ear,  some- 
times long  after  I  should,  and  sometimes  before.  Remem- 
ber me  warmly  to  our  excellent  Mr.  Balguy.  How  is  his 
lameness  ?  When  I  had  the  singular  pleasure  of  seeing 
him,  and  I  think  it  was  so  in  ever)-  sense,  he  was  agility 
itself.  But  he  has  the  art  or  fortune  of  bringing  himself 
down  to  a  lame  becrippled  world. 

Prior-Park^  Januanj  1st,  1753. 


134 

P.  S.  INIany,  very  many  happy  new  years  to  you,  each 
happier  than  the  other,  as  they  will  be  if  you  go  on 
at  vour  rate  of  virtue. 


LETTER  LXXIV. 

I  HAVE  two  kind  letters,  and  the  packet,  to  acknow- 
ledge. 

I  am  charmed  with  the  Dialogue  ;  the  notes  are  original ; 
very  happy  in  their  turn  and  manner,  and  as  well  execu- 
ted, with  a  deal  of  fine  satire.  I  see  nothing  in  any  of 
them  to  reform,  but  in  one  :  which  too  is  on  the  best  sub- 
ject, but  we  will  contrive  to  give  it  another  turn.  I  will 
tell  you  my  opinion  truly,  that  a  few  such  Dialogues 
(enough  to  make  a  sm;ill  volume)  will  be  one  of  the  finest 
works  of  genius  we  have  in  the  English  tongue.  And 
then  you  shall  bid  adieu  to  wit  and  criticism,  to  pursue 
theg-reat  design.  Cowley  might  well  be  tired  with  Courts- 
— At  the  Restoration  there  was  not  a  set  of  people  more 
troublesome  to  the  Ministry  than  the  Cavalier  Officers  4 
amongst  whom  had  crept  in  all  the  profligate  of  broken 
fortunes,  to  shave  in  the  merits  and  rewards  of  that  name. 
Cowley  wrote  his  Cutter  of  Coleman-street  to  unniask  these 
scoundrels,  and  imagined  he  should  have  had  the  thanks 
of  the  Ministry  for  it ;  when,  contrary  to  his  expectation, 
he  raised  a  storm  even  at  Court,  that  beat  violently  upon 
him.  See  his  Preface  to  that  Play,  in  the  later  editions 
of  his  works  in  8vo.  Would  not  this  bean  incident  worth 
mentioning,  as  it  would  afford  some  good  reflections  on  his 
part ;  and  as  Sprat  might  speak  the  Court  sentiments  on  so 
remarkable  an  occasion. — I  shall  be  more  exact  in  mv 


135 

Remarks  on  the  second  reading  j  and  shall  have  a  vvorid 
of  hints  by  that  time  I  see  you^ 

You  ask  whether  Lord  Bacon  spoke  from  his  resent- 
ments ?  He  did.  But  not  the  less  truly  for  that.  Only 
had  the  Cecils  been  his  patrons,  perhaps  he  would  not 
have  seen  it,  certainly  not  have  felt  it,  and  most  certainly 
would  not  have  complained  of  it. — You  will  see  the  third 
letter  advertised  next  week. 

Browne  has  told  me  the  grand  secret;  and  I  wish  it  had 
been  a  secret  still  to  me,  when  it  was  none  to  every  body 
else.  I  am  grieved  that  either  these  unrervarding  times,, 
or  his  love  of  poetry^  or  his  love  of  money ^  should  have 
made  him  overlook  the  duty  of  a  Clergyman  in  these  times, 
and  the  dignity  of  a  Clergyman  in  all  times,  to  make  con- 
nexions with  Players.  Mr.  Allen  is  grieved.  You  are 
sufficiently  grieved,  as  I  saw  by  your  postscript  in  a  letter 
to  him,  where  you  reprove  him  for  an  advertisement. 
We  told  him,  that  we  should  both  have  dissuaded  him 
from  his  project  had  he  communicated  it  to  us.  As  it 
was,  we  had  only  to  lament  the  state  of  these  times  that 
forced  a  learned  and  ingenious  Clergyman  into  these  mea- 
sures, to  put  himself  at  ease.  How  much  shall  I  honour 
one  who  has  a  stronger  propensity  to  poetry,  and  has 
got  a  greater  name  in  it,  if  he  performs  his  promise  to  me 
of  putting  away  those  idle  baggages,  after  his  sacred 
espousals  ! — No  one  shall  see  the  Dialogue. — The  Com- 
plaint I  always  thought  admirable.  If  our  poetical  friend 
does  not  taste  it,  it  is  because  he  is  wisely  weaning  himself 
from  these  enchantments. 

Bedford- Roxu,^    Janiiarii  Sl.^f,   1755« 


LETTER  LXXV. 

Mr.  HURD  to  Mr.  WARBURTON. 

Emmanuel^  Tuesday  Noon. 
SIR  Edward  Littleton  is  with  me,  and  with  his  usual 
kindness  hardly  cares  to  stir  from  me.  Yet  I  got  half  an 
hour  to  read  the  Apology,  which  I  received  this  morning, 
and,  as  I  suppose,  am  indebted  to  you  for  the  favour  of 
the  present.  I  cannot  be  at  ease  till  I  have  told  you, 
though  it  be  in  two  words,  that  if  I  were  capable  of  ho- 
nouring you  more  than  I  have  long  done,  I  should  certainly 
do  it  on  the  score  of  this  glorious  Apolog}',  which  lets  me 
see  the  bottom  of  your  mind  so  perfectly.  I  am  sorry  for 
the  occasion  of  it.  But  you  never  writ  any  thing  more 
worthy  yourself,  or  which,  in  spite  of  friends  or  foes,  will 
more  endear  your  memory  to  the  wise  and  good  for  ever. 
Excuse  this  frank  declaration,  which  comes  from  the 
bottom  of  a  heart  that  is  wholly  and  devotedly  yours. 


LETTER  LXXVL 

ir  was  kind  in  you  to  send  me  your  warm  thoughts. 
You  have  in  that  Apology  a  true  copy  of  my  heart.  My 
provocation  perhaps  was  greater  (as  my  misfortune  was) 
that  the  accusation  in  the  anonymous  letter  came  from  a 
real  friend.  Had  he  made  them  to  me  without  disguise,  I 
could  have  satisfied  him  in  private.  He  reduced  me  to  this 
necessity.  And  pardy  provocation,  partly  self-defence, 
and  partly  my  duty  to  the  public,  in  these  wretched  times, 
made  me  open  myself  without  the  least  covering  or  disguise. 
And  could  you  satisfy  me  that  the  duties  of  my  profession 


137 

required  no  further  of  me,  than  the  weak  effort  I  have  al- 
ready made  in  support  of  falling  Religion,  I  would  never 
more  set  pen  to  paper.  For  all  I  shall  ever  get  by  these 
attempts  (and  I  shall  now  never  write  on  other  subjects) 
will  be  only  outrageous  abuse  from  the  profligate  and  infa- 
mous, and  nameless  inhabitants  of  garrets  and  prisons  ;  of 
which,  I  have  already  had  much  more  than  my  share. 
Besides,  I  could  not  conclude  more  to  my  own  satisfaction 
than  with  a  thing  you  seem  so  much  to  approve  :  and  your 
approbation  is  more  to  me  than  that  of  a  whole  people. 
Mr.  Allen  and  Mrs.  Allen  are  just  come  ;  they  ask  after 
vou.  I  tell  them  you  will  come  before  the  first  swallow, 
and  bring  more  to  me  than  summer. 

My  dearest  friend,  God  have  you  alwaj's  in  his  keeping, 
and  give  you  health  to  pursue  those  studies  that  are  to  stem 
a  barbarous  and  an  impious  age  ?  If  Sir  Edward  be  yet  with 
5"OU,  assure  him  of  my  best  respect :  and  assure  yourself  of 
the  warmest  affection  and  friendship  of 

W.  WARBURTON« 

Bedford-Roxv^  February  15 thy  1755. 


I.ETTER  LXXVIL 

I  HAVE  the  pleasure  of  yours  of  the  20th.  It  gives 
us  all  pleasure  to  understand  how  soon  we  shall  have  your 
company  and  Mr.   Balguy's. 

The  two  inclosed  letters  (which  you  will  bring  back  with 
you)  will  give  you  pleasure  on  the  same  account  they  gave 
it  me.  My  yulian  has  had  a  great  effect  in  France,  where 
Free-thinking  holds  its  head  as  high  as  in  England.  This 
is  a  greatfonsolation  to  me,  as  my  sole  aim  is  to  repress  this 
«nfernal  spirit.  The  Jesuits,  who  make  a  case  of  conscience 

s 


J  38 

of  speaking  well  of  Protestant  Wi  iters,  have  in  tlieir  Jour- 
nal of  I'revoux,  for  Noventiber,  been  veiy  lavish  in  their 
encomiums  on  the  book,  and  it  has  procured  me  the  good 
will  of  the  best  and  greatest  man*;  in  France  ;  M'hile  there 
13  hardly  a  Nobleman  in  England  who  knows  I  have  wrote 
such  a  book.  But  what  care  I  for  any  Nobleman  t  When 
I  most  wished  for  their  favours,  it  v/as  only  to  put  me  in  a 
capacity  of  serving  merit,  that  is,  my  Friends  ;  for,  thank 
God,  I  have  either  had  the  good  luck  to  find  them  together, 
or  the  courage  to  drop  the  pretended  friend,  let  his  quality 
be  what  it  would,  as  soon  as  I  found  he  had  none.  You 
may  judge  of  the  effects  my  Apology  will  have  by  what 
my  conversation  has  had  :  for  it  is  all  of  a  piece.  Only 
this  last  year  or  two  I- was  going  swimmingly  on.  I  have 
now  struck  upon  a  rock.  But  all  this  is  only  for  your  own 
ear.  It  pleases  me  to  find  the  public  does  not  smell  the 
matter.  Mason,  who  speaks  their  sense,  supposes  the  writer 
of  the  anonymous  letter  some  secret  enemy.  You  may 
be  sure  I  would  not  undeceive  him.  Browne,  indeed,  con- 
jectures strange  matters.  But  I  desired  him  to  keep  his 
conjectures  to  himself.  I  can  perceive  the  loss  of  interest, 
he  supposes  it  will  occasion,  concerns  him,  as  his  gratitude 
makes  him  interest  himself  for  me.  But  I  have  been  led  to 
a  length  I  did  not  intend.  All  I  meant  was  to  wish  you 
both  a  good  journey.  lam, 
PvIy  best  frieko, 

Ever  yours, 

W.  WARBURTON. 
Ftbruary  22d,   1753, 

*  D'lr  (Ic  N(\<iiHes.     JT 


139 


LETTER  LXXVIII. 

Bedford-Roxv,  March  2Ut,  1755. 

YOU  will  see  in  the  papers  an  article  that  mentions 
me,  which  will  give  yon  pleasure,  on  which  accomit  I 
thought  myself  obliged  to  confirm  it  to  you.  The  Bishop 
of  Durham,  concurring  with  the  Attorney-General  in 
their  good  opinion  of  me,  has  given  me  the  Prebend  \vhich 
was  lately  Mangey's,  near  500/.  He  had  other  friends, 
you  may  imagine,  to  oblige  ;  so  I  have  resigned  the  Pre- 
bend of  Gloucester,  and  I  shall  resign  another  piece  of 
preferment  in  the  country.  But  the  free  motion  and 
friendly  manner  in  which  this  thing  was  done,  you  will 
easily  believe,  enhances  the  value  of  it  to  me.  My  friends 
are  solicitous  in  these  matters  for  me  j  I  myself,  at  this 
time  of  life,  extremely  little. 

My  best  possession  is  your  esteem  and  friendship ; 
continue  to  love  me ;  and  believe  me,  my  dearest  friend, 
most  entirely  yours, 

W.  WARBURTON, 


LETTER  LXXIX. 
Mr.  HURD  to  Mr.  WARBURTON. 

Evnnaniiel^  March  2Zd^  1755. 
IT  makes  me  truly  happy  that  I  can  now,  at  length, 
honestly  congratulate  with  you  on  a  preferment,  worth 
your  acceptance.  The  Church  has  been  so  long  and 
deeply  in  your  debt,  that  it  will  seem  but  common  justice 
if  it  now  pays  you  with  interest.  Not  that  I  look  upon 
this  Prebend    as  such  pavment;  which  delights  me  prin- 


140 

cipally,  as  it  does  you,  irom  its  being  given  at  this  time, 
and  by  such  a  person.  I  have  no  words  to  tell  you  how 
much  I  honour  the  Attorney-General.  The  nobleness  of 
mind,  he  has  shewn  on  this  occasion,  is  only  to  be  match- 
ed by  that  which  every  body  takes  notice  of  in  a  late 
Apologist.  If  the  world  were  made  acquainted  with  par- 
ticulars, it  would,  melhinks,  be  taken  for  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  events  in  both  your  lives,  that  he  should  confer 
and  you  receive  such  a  favour  at  this  juncture. — May  every 
circumstance  concur  to  afford  you  the  full  enjoyment  of 
this  and  better  things,  which  your  great  services  have 
long  since  merited  ! 

I  have  been  much  out  of  order  since  my  return,  or  your 
kind  letter  had  not  prevented  the  thanks  I  owe  you  for 
a  thousand  favours.  I  indulge  in  the  memory  of  the 
agreeable  days  and  nights  I  so  lately  passed  with  you. 
The  truth  is,  I  am  so  happy  in  the  share  you  allow  me  in 
your  friendship,  that  I  have  scarce  another  wish  for  my- 
self, except  for  the  continuance  of  it.  And  this,  with 
all  my  infirmities,  I  will  not  doubt  of  so  long  as  I  have  a 
heart  warm  and  honest  enough  to  give  it  entertainment. 
Mr.  Balguy  told  me  he  should  write  this  post,  or  the 
next. 

Rev.  Sir, 

Your  most  faithful,  &c. 

K.  KURD. 


LETTER  LXXX. 

Prior-Park^  March  31st,  1755. 

I   DEFERRED  my  thanks  for  your  last   kind   letter 

rill  I  had  got  to  this   place,  whither  I  am  come  for  about 

a  fortnight ;  and  shall  then  return  back  to  Easter  term,  and 

to  the  preaching  a  foolish  sermon,  they  bullied  me  into,  at 


141 

the  Small-Pox  Hospital,  (after  having  refused  the  Sons  oi 
the  Clergy,)  but  on  condition  they  would  not  press  me  t& 
print  it.  I  hate  to  have  my  name  in  a  dirty  newspaper 
on  any  account ;  which  has  always  made  me  decline 
these  charity-jobs,  that  every  body  is  fit  for,  and  almost 
every  body  ready  for.  And  the  impertinence  of  the  ad- 
vertisement on  this  occasion,  will  make  it  difficult  to  draw 
me  into  another.  I  don't  like  that  every  cobler  should 
know  I  am  Prebendary  of  the  same  church  with  Dr.  Chap- 
man the  great ;  but  I  would  have  no  friend  ignorant  that 
I  owe  it  to  the  friendship  of  the  Attorney,  and  to  the 
generosity  of  the  Bishop's  sentiments  concerning  me. 

Mr.  Allen  and  I  agree  perfectly  with  you  concerning 
the  Attorney's  greatness  of  mind  ;  and  we  love  you  very 
selfishly  for  a  way  of  thinking  so  like  our  own  on  this 
©ccasion. 

We  are  much  concerned  to  hear  you  speak  of  your 
health  in  the  manner  you  do.  That  scorbutic  humour  in 
your  blood  certainly  lies  on  your  nerves.  Let  me  per- 
suade you  by  all  means  to  use  Weymouth.  Or  rather  let 
me  prepare  you  to  be  persuaded  against  July.  I  take  it  for 
granted,  indispensable  care  of  your  health  dispenses  of 
course  with  your  statutes ;  otherwise,  they  are  likely  to 
do  more  hurt  now,  than  ever  yet,  I  believe,  they  did 
good. — I  wish  I  could  improve  my  works  as  Mr.  Allen 
does  his  ;  and  yet  I  am  always  mending.  But  there  is 
a  difference  between  mending  and  improving,  as  every 
botcher  knows.  One  should  think  mine  had  the  advan- 
tage of  his,  in  being  less  liable  to  the  caprice  of  taste  or 
fashion.  Yet  I  don't  know  :  I  have  lived  to  see  reason- 
ing on  principles  and  criticism  on  mitiquity  out  of  fashion  ; 
and  heaps  of  inconsistent  Essays  become  all  the  mode» 
Mr.  Allen  is  more  compliant,  and  therefore  more  suc- 
cessful than  I.     He  has  just  now  turned  a  rich  fruit-grove 


142 

into  a  tine  flowery  lawn :  why  should  not  I  turn  what  re- 
mains of  the  Divine  Legation  into  Court  Sermons  with- 
out head  or  tail,  into 

♦'  Flowers  of  all  hues,   and,  without  spine,  the  rose  ?"      ,  •  " 

I  am  only  deterred  by  an  ancient  Critic,  (those  severe 
task-masters  of  you  and  me,)  who  says,  S'  Omnis  ilia  laus 
"  intra  unum  aut  alterum  diem,  velut  in  herba  vel  flore 
"  prsecepta,  ad  nuUam  certam  vel  solidam  pervenit  fru- 
''  gem." 

But  I  only  nrvean  to  tell  you,  without  figure  or  allegory, 
that  Mr.  Allen  has  made  many  improvements  since  you 
was  here;  though  he  takes  the  greatest  improvement  of 
his  seat  to  be  filling  it  with  such  as  you.  God  give  you 
health,  (you  will  give  yourself  every  thing  besides,)  and 
give  me  courage  to  emulate  your  virtues  as  much  as  I  love 
your  person. 

W.  WARBURTON. 

P.  S.  The  women  are  all  much  yours,  and  are  anxious 
for  your  health  ;  they  all  desire  their  kindest  remem- 
brance. 


LETTER  LXXXI. 

I  HEARTILY  condole  with  you  on  your  father's 
declining  condition.  I  know  a  little  what  attends  the  dis- 
tresses of  filial  piety.  But  the  calamity  is  much  softened 
when  the  loss  is  by  a  gradual  decay  of  nature,  in  good 
mature  age.  Pray  inform  Mrs.  Hurd  of  my  great  re- 
gard for  her,  and  how  much  I  feel  for  all  your  distresses  on 
this  melancholv  occasion. 


143 

You  do  right  to  call  your  thoughts  from  it  all  you  can. 
And  perhaps  this  is  one  of  the  best  circumstances  of 
lettered  life,  that  we  have  a  refuge  from  the  sense  of  hu- 
man miseries,  as  well  as  a  support  under  them. 

I  greatly  approve  of  your  design  of  a  Dialogue  on  the 
effect  of  transferring  the  supremacij  in  religions  matters. 
A  thousand  curious  hints  will  arise  to  you  as  you  pro- 
ceed in  contemplation  of  the  subject.  One  now,  for  in- 
stance, occurs  to  me.  Could  any  thing  be  more  absurd 
than  that,  when  the  yoke  of  Rome  was  thrown  off,  they 
should  govern  the  new  Church,  erected  in  opposition  to 
it,  by  the  laws  of  the  old.  The  pretence  was,  that  this 
was  only  by  way  of  interim^  till  a  body  of  Ecclesiastical 
Laws  could  be  formed.  But  whoever  considers  that  the 
Canon  Laxvs  proceeded  from,  and  had  perpetual  refer- 
ence to,  an  absolute  and  spiritual  Monarch,  and  were 
formed  upon  the  genius,  and  did  acknowledge  the  autho- 
rity of  the  Civil  Laws,  the  issue  of  civil  despotism — I 
say,  whoever  considers  this,  will  be  inclined  to  think 
that  the  Crown  contrived  this  ititerim  from  the  use  the 
Canon  Law  was  of  to  the  extension  of  the  Prerogative. 
However,  it  is  certain  that  the  succeeding  Monarchs, 
Elizabeth,  James,  Charles,  prevented  our  ever  having  abody 
of  new  Ecclesiastical  Laws,  from  a  sense  of  this  utility 
fn  the  old  ones  ;  and  a  consciousness,  if  ever  they  should 
submit  a  body  of  new  Laws  to  the  Legislature,  the  Par- 
liament would  form  them  altogether  upon  the  genius  of 
a  free  Church  and  State.  This  I  take  to  be  the  true  solu- 
tion of  this  mysterious  affair,  that  wears  a  face  of  so  much 
absurdity  and  scandalous  neglect. 

Bracton  and  Fortescue,  the  two  most  learned,  and 
almost  the  only  learned  of  the  ancient  Lawyers,  are 
both  express,  not  only  to  our  free  and  limited  Government, 
but  they  deduce  the  original  of  civil  power  from  the  peo- 
ple. You  will  not  fail  of  meeting  with  some  good  things 
in  Selden's  fine  Dissertations  on  Fleta.     Pray  let  me  know 


144 

how  your  father  goes  on ;  how  long  you  continue  with 
him,  and  when  you  think  of  returning  to  Cambridge. 

All  here  are  sincerely  grieved  for  the  distress  of  your 
famil}'.  They  desire  to  be  remembered  in  the  kinde&t 
manner ;  particularly  your  lively  friend.  They  are  all 
now  at  home,  (save  Molly  Allen,  v/ho  is  at  Potter's,)  find- 
ing no  rest  for  their  feet  on  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  which  they  essayed  for  two  or  three  days  at  a  place 
called  Limington. 

Pr'tor-Park^  August  31st,  1755. 


LETTER  LXXXII. 

3Ir.  HURD  to  Dr.    WARBURTON: 

Shifnal^  September  ISth,  1755. 
YOUR  truly  friendly  letter  of  the  31st  past,  brought 
me  all  the  relief  I  am  capable  of  in  my  present  situation. 
Yet  that  relief  had  been  greater  if  the  fact  had  been,  as 
you  suppose,  that  the  best  of  fathers  was  removing  from 
me,  in  this  maturity  of  age,  by  a  gradual  insensible  de- 
cay of  nature  ;  in  which  case,  I  could  have  drawn  to  my- 
self much  ease  from  the  considerations  you  so  kindly 
suggest  to  me.  But  it  is  not  his  being  out  of  all  hope  of 
recovery,  (which  I  had  known  long  since,  and  was  pre- 
pared for,)  but  his  being  in  perpetual  pain,  that  afflicts 
me  so  much.  I  left  him  last  night  in  this  disconsolate 
condition.  So  near  a  prospect  of  death,  and  so  rough  a 
passage  to  it — I  own  to  you  I  cannot  be  a  witness  of  this, 
in  one  whom  nature  and  ten  thousand  obligations  have 
made  so  dear  to  me,  withotit  the  utmost  uneasiness. 
Nay,  I  think  the  very  temper  and  firmness  of  mind  with 
which  he  bears  this  calamity,  sharpens  my  sense  of  it. 


145 

I  thank  God,  an  attachment  to  this  world  has  not  as  yet 
been  among  my  greater  vices.  But  were  I  as  fond  of 
it  as  prosperous  and  happy  men  sometimes  are,  what  I 
have  seen  and  felt  for  this  last  month  were  enough  to 
mortify  such  foolish  affections.  And  in  truth  it  would 
amaze  one,  that  a  few  such  instances  as  this,  which 
hardly  any  man  is  out  of  the  reach  of,  did  not  strike  dead 
all  the  passions,  were  it  not  that  Providence  has  deter- 
mined, in  spite  of  ourselves,  by  means  of  these  instincts, 
to  accomplish  its  own  great  purposes.  But  why  do  I 
trouble  my  best  friend  with  this  sad  tale  and  rambling 
reflections  ?  I  designed  only  to  tell  him  that  I  am  quite  un- 
happy here,  and  that,  though  it  is  more  than  time  for  me 
to  return  to  Cambridge,  I  have  no  power  of  coming  to  a 
thought  of  leaving  this  place.  However,  a  very  few  weeks, 
perhaps  a  few  days,  may  put  an  end  to  this  irresolution. 

I  thank  you  for  your  fine  observation  on  the  neglect  to 
reform  the  Ecclesiastical  Laws.  It  is  a  very  material 
one,  and  deserves  to  be  well  considered.  But  of  these 
matters,  when  I  return  to  my  books,  and  my  mind  is 
more  easy. 

I  wish  you  all  the  health  and  all  the  happiness  your 
virtues  deserve,  and  this  wretched  world  will  admit  of. 
I  know  of  nothing  that  reconciles  me  more  to  it  than  the 
sense  of  having  such  a  friend  as  you  in  it.  I  have  the 
greatest  obligations  to  Mrs.  Warburton  and  the  rest  of 
your  family  for  their  kind  condolence.  My  best  respects 
and  sincerest  good  wishes  attend  them.  I  must  ever 
be,  &c. 

R.  KURD, 

T 


146 


LETTER  LXXXIII. 

'If      i  RECEIVED  your  most  tender  letter,  and  sympathize 
with  you  most  heartily. — Let  me  have  better  news. 

A  very  disagreeable  affair  has  brought  me  to  town  a 
month  before  my  usual  time.  Mr.  Knapton,  whom  every 
body,  and  I  particulurly,  thought  the  richest  bookseller  in 
tov/n,  has  failed.  His  debts  are  20,000/.  and  his  stock  is 
valued  at  30,000/.  but  this  value  is  subject  to  many 
abating  contingencies  ;  and  you  never  at  first  hear  the  whole 
debt.  It  is  hoped  there  will  be  enough  to  paj'  every  one: 
I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  it.  It  is  a  business  of  years. 
He  owes  me  a  great  sum.  I  am  his  principal  creditor  ; 
and  as  such,  I  have  had  it  in  my  power,  at  a  meeting  of 
his  creditors,  to  dispose  them  favourably  to  him,  and  to 
get  him  treated  with  great  humanity  and  compassion.  I 
have  brought  them  to  agree  unanimously  to  take  a  resig- 
nation of  his  effects,  to  be  managed  by  trustees ;  and  in 
the  mean  time,  till  the  effects  can  be  disposed  of  to  the 
best  advantage,  which  will  be  some  years  in  doing,  to 
allow  him  a  very  handsome  subsistence  ;  for  I  think  him 
an  honest  man,  (though  he  has  done  extreme  ill  by  me,) 
and,  as  such,  love  him.  He  falls  with  the  pity  and 
compassion  of  every  bod}'.  His  fault  was  extreme  in- 
dolence. 

I  was  never  more  satisfied  in  any  action  of  my  life  than 
in  my  service  of  iVIr.  Knapton  on  this  occasion,  and  the 
preventing  (which  I  hope  I  have  done)  his  being  torn  in 
pieces.  Yet  you  must  not  be  surprised,  I  am  sure  I 
should  not,  if  you  hear  (so  great  is  the  world's  love  of 
truth  and  of  rne)  that  my  severity  to  him  destroyed  his 
credit,  and  would  have  pushed  him  to  extremity.  I  will 
assure  you,  you  have  heard  many  things  of  me  full  as  true  ; 
which,    though  at  present  apocryphal,  may,  by  my  never 


147 

contradicting  them,  in  time  become  holy-wvit,  as  the  Poet 
says. 

God  bless  you,  and  believe  me  to  be,  &c.  ^ 

Bedford-Row,  September  24th,  1755.  "^ 


LETTER  LXXXIV. 

Bedford-Roxv,  October  27th^  1755. 

I  HEARTILY  condole  with  you  in  your  distress,  but 
am  glad  you  are  got  from  the  scene  of  it. 

The  politics  that  encountered  you  on  your  coming  to 
Cambridge,  plainly  shew  your  wise  men  are  much  more 
intent  on  themselves  than  the  public  ;  otherwise  they  would 
not,  at  such  a  crisis  as  this,  when  our  all  is  at  stake,  (which 
will  always  be  the  case  in  every  pitiful  squabble  with 
France,)  busy  themselves  with  who  was  in  or  out. 

Take  these  hints  while  they  remain  in  my  memory. — 
Under  the  Norman  and  Plantagenet  lines,  the  prerogative 
rose  or  fell  just  as  the  Pope  or  the  Barons  ruled  at  court. 
But  the  principle  of  civil  liberty  was  always  in  vigour. — 
The  Barons  were  a  licentious  race  in  their  private  livesi 
The  Bishops  threw  them  out  a  bait,  which  they  were  too 
wise  to  catch  at.  Subsequent  marriage,  by  the  Imperial 
Laws,  as  well  as  Canons,  legitimated  bastards  as  to  suc- 
cession :  the  Common  Law  kept  them  eternally  in  their 
state  of  bastardy.  The  Barons'  castles  were  full  ot  bas- 
tards ;  the  very  name  was  honourable.  At  a  Parliament 
under  Henry  III.  "  rogaverunt  omnes  Episcopi  ut  consen- 
"  tirent  quod  nati  ante  matrimonium  essent  legitimi — et 
"  omnes  Comites  et  Barones  una  voce  responderunt  quod 
"  nolunt  Leges  Anglice  jnutari."  See  Coke-Littleton,  L. 
3.  C.  6.  Sect.  40.  This  famous  answer  has  been  quoted  a 
thousand  and  thousand  times,  and  yet  no  body  seems  to  have 


148 

understood  the  management.  The  Bishops,  as  partisans 
of  the  Pope,  v,  ere  for  subjecting  England  to  the  Imperial 
and  Papal  laws,  and  therefore  began  with  a  circumstance 
most  to  the  taste  of  the  Barons.  The  Barons  smelt  the 
contrivance  ;  and  rejected  a  proposition  most  agreeable  to 
them,  for  fear  of  the  consequences,  the  introduction  of 
the  Imperial  Laws,  whose  very  genius  and  essence  was 
arbitrary  despotic  power.  Their  answer  shews  it,  "  Nolu- 
"  mus  Leges  Angliae  mutari" — they  had  nothing  to  object 
to  the  reform,  but  they  were  afraid  for  the  constitution. 

After  the  reformation,  the  Protestant  Divines^  as  ap- 
pears by  the  Homilies  composed  by  the  wisest  and  most 
disinterested  men,  such  as  Cranmer  and  Latimer,  preach- 
ed up  Non-resistance  very  strongly;  but  it  was  only  to 
oppose  to  Popery.  The  case  was  this  :  the  Pope  threaten- 
ed to  excommunicate  and  depose  Edward  ;  he  did  put  his 
threats  in  execution  against  Elizabeth.  This  was  esteemed 
such  a  stretch  of  power,  and  so  odious,  that  the  Jesuits 
contrived  all  means  to  soften  it. — One  was,  by  searching 
into  the  origin  of  civil  power,  which  they  brought  rightly 
(though  for  wicked  purposes)  from  the  people  ;  as  Maria- 
na and  others. — To  combat  this,  and  to  save  the  person 
of  the  Sovereign,  the  Protestant  Divines  preached  up 
Divine  Right. — Hooker,  superior  to  every  thing,  follow- 
ed the  truth. — But  it  is  remarkable  that  this  Non-resistance 
that  at  the  reformation  was  employed  to  keep  out  Popery, 
was,  at  the  Revolution,  employed  to  bring  it  in — so  eter- 
nally is  truth  sacrificed  to  politics. 

My  dear  friend,  take  care  of  your  health  ;  and  believe 
me,  &c. 


149 


LETTER  LXXXV. 

I  HAVE  read  the  Dialogue  with  vast  pleasure.  I  tell 
you,  with  all  sincerity,  it  wnll  be  excellent  when  you  have 
put  the  last  hand  to  it.  It  is  superior  to  the  other  two. 
The  superiority  of  the  subject  has  proportionably  fired 
you  ;  it  will  too  be  an  admirable  introduction  to  the  other 
on  the  English  Constitution.  You  will  see  here  and  there 
a  trifling  ill-placed  hint.  But  I  propose  to  be  very  critical 
when  you  have  finished  them  all. 

The  subject  is  so  far  from  displeasing  me,  as  you  sug- 
gest, that  I  like  it  above  any  other  :  and  this  alone  will 
secure  even  a  good  book's  taking,  in  this  prodigious   age. 

I  solemnly  declare,  I  tell  you  my  real  and  well-weighed 
thoughts.  A  book  of  such  Dialogues  must  be  very  taking ; 
therefore  don't  engage  yourself  with  a  bookseller  till  we 
weigh  the  matter  well. — How  superior  is  it  to  any  thing 
we  have  had  or  are  like  to  have  in  the  polite  way ! — but  I 
suppress  myself.  In  the  first  place,  take  care  of  your 
health  ;  in  the  second  place,  take  care  of  your  Dialogues. 

How  does  your  good  Father  ?  How  do  your  Mother  and 
the  rest?  I  think  them  of  my  family. 
Adieu,  my  dearest  friend,  &c. 

Bedford-How,  November  15th,  1755. 

P.  S.     I  will  take  care  to  return  the  Dialogues  safe ;  iH 
the  mean  time  they  are  locked  up. 


150 

LETTER  LXXXVI. 

Jlr.  HURD  to  Dr.  WARBURTON. 

Cambridge,  December  \st,  1755» 
I  HAVE  to  tell  you  that  it  has  pleased  God  to  release 
my  poor  Father  from  his  great  misery.  You  will  guess 
the  rest,  when  I  acquaint  you  that  his  case  was  cancerous. 
Ail  his  family  have  great  reason  to  be  thankful  for  his  de- 
liverance ;  and  yet  I  find  myself  not  so  well  prepared  for 
the  stroke  as  I  had  tlwught.  I  blame  myself  now  for 
having  left  him.  Though  when  I  was  with  him,  as  I  could 
not  hide  my  own  uneasiness,  I  saw  it  only  added  to  his. 
I  know  not  what  to  say.  He  was  the  best  of  men  in  all 
relations,  and  had  a  generosity  of  mind  that  was  amazing 
in  his  rank  of  life.  In  his  long  and  great  affliction  he  shew- 
ed a  temper  which  philosophers  only  talk  of.  If  he  had 
any  foible  it  was,  perhaps,  his  too  great  fondness  for 
the  unworthiest  of  his  sons.  My  Mother  is  better 
than  could  be  expected  from  her  melancholy  attendance. 
Yet  her  health  has  suifered  by  it.  I  have  many  letters  to 
write,  but  would  not  omit  communicating,  what  so  ten- 
derly concerns  me,  to  my  best  friend. 

I  thank  you  for  your  book  and  your  kind  letters.  Mr. 
Balguy  and  I  think  much  more  hardly  of  Jortin  than  you 
do.     I  could  say  much  of  this  matter  at  another  time. 


LETTER  LXXXVII. 

I  OUGHT  rather  to  rejoice  with  all  who  loved  that 
good  man  lately  released,  than  to  condole  with  them.  Can 
there  be  a  greater  consolation  to  all  his  friends  than  that 
he  was  snatched  from  human  miseries  to  the  reward  of  his 


151 

labours?  You  I  am  sure  must  rejoice,  amidstall  the  ttn- 
derness  of  filial  piety  and  the  softenings  of  natural  affec- 
tion ;  the  gentle  melancholy,  that  the  incessant  momory  of 
so  indulgent  a  parent  and  so  excellent  a  man  will  make  ha- 
bitual, will  be  always  brightened  with  the  sense  of  his 
present  happiness  ;  where,  perhaps,  one  of  his  pleasures 
is  his  ministering  care  over  those  which  were  clearest  to  him 
in  lii'=%  I  dare  say  this  will  be  your  case,  because  the  same 
circumstances  have  made  it  mine.  My  great  concern  for 
you  was  while  your  Father  was  languishing  on  his 
death-bed.  And  my  concern  at  present  is  for  your  Mo- 
ther's grief  and  ill  state  of  health.  True  tenderness  for  your 
Father,  and  the  dread  of  adding  to  his  distresses,  absolute- 
ly required  you  to  do  what  you  did,  and  to  retire  from  so 
melancholy  a  scene. 

As  I  know  your  excellent  nature,  I  conjure  you  by  our 
friendship  to  divert  your  mind  by  the  conversation  of  your 
friends,  and  the  amusement  of  trifling  reading,  till  you 
have  fortified  it  sufficiently  to  bear  the  reflection  on  this 
common  calamity  of  our  nature  without  any  other  emotion 
than  that  occasioned  by  a  kind  of  soothing  melancholy, 
which  perhaps  keeps  it  in  a  better  frame  than  any  other 
kind  of  disposition. 

You  see  what  man  is,  when  never  so  little  within  the 
verge  of  matter  and  motion  in  a  ferment.  The  afi'air  of 
Lisbon  has  made  men  tremble,  as  well  as  the  Continent  shake 
from  one  end  of  Europe  to  another  ;  from  Gibraltar  to  the 
Highlands  of  Scotland.  To  suppose  these  desolations  the 
scourge  of  Heaven  for  human  impieties,  is  a  dreadful  reflec- 
tion ;  and  yet  to  suppose  ourselves  in  a  forlorn  and  father- 
less world,  is  ten  times  a  more  frightful  consideration.  In 
the  first  case,  we  may  reasonably  hope  to  avoid  our  de- 
struction by  the  amendment  of  our  manners  ;  in  the  latter, 
we  are  kept  incessantly  alarmed  by  the  blind  rage  of  war- 
ring elements. 


152 

The  relation  of  the  Captain  of  a  Vessel,  to  the  Admiral- 
ty, as  Mr.  Yorke  told  me  the  story,  has  something  very  stri- 
king in  it.  He  lay  off  Lisbon  on  this  fatal  1st  of  No- 
vember, preparing  to  hoist  sail  for  England.  He  looked 
towards  the  city  in  the  morning,  which  gave  the  promse 
of  a  fine  day,  and  saw  that  proud  Metropolis  rise  above  the 
waves,  flourishing  in  wealth  and  plenty,  and  founded  on  a 
rock  that  promised  a  Poet's  eternity,  at  least,  to  its  gran- 
deur. He  looked  an  hour  after,  and  saw  the  city  involved 
in  flames,  and  sinking  in  thunder.  A  sight  more  awful 
mortal  eyes  could  not  behold  on  this  side  the  day  of  doom. 
And  yet  does  not  human  pride  make  us  miscalculate  ? 
A  drunken  beggar  shall  work  as  horrid  a  desolation  with  a 
kick  of  his  foot  against  an  ant-hill,  as  subterraneous  air  and 
fermented  minerals  to  a  populous  city.  And  if  we  take  in 
the  universe  of  things  rather  with  a  philosophic  than  a 
religious  eye,  where  is  the  difference  in  point  of  real  im- 
portance between  them  :  A  difference  there  is,  and  a  very 
sensible  one,  in  the  merit  of  the  tv/o  societies.  The  little 
Troglodytes  amassneither  superfluous  nor  imaginary  wealth  J 
and  consequently  have  neither  dnmes  nor  rogues  amongst 
them.  In  the  confusion  we  see  caused  by  such  a  desolation, 
we  find,  by  their  immediate  care  to  repair  and  remedy  the 
general  mischief,  that  none  abandons  himself  to  despair,  and 
so  stands  not  in  need  of  Bedlams  and  Coroner's  inquests: 
but,  as  the  Poet  says, 

"  In  this,  'lis  God  directs,  in  that,  'tis  man." 

And  you  will  say,  remember  the  sovereignity  of  reason. 
To  this  I  reply,  that  the  common  definition  of  man  is  false  : 
he  is  not  a  reasoning  cmi?>wL  The  bestj'ou  can  predicate 
of  him  is,  that  he  is  an  animal  capable  of  reason^  and  this  too 
we  take  upon  old  tradition.  For  it  has  not  been  my  fortune 
yet  to  meet,  I  Avon't  say  with  any  one  man,  but  I  may 
safely  swear  with  any  one  order  of  men,  who  ever  did 
reason.  And  this  I  am  afraid  our  friend  Towne  will  soon 
find  to  his  cost. 


I5i 


LETTER  LXXXVIII. 

Prior- Pari,  December  21st,  \7o5. 

JUST  now  Mr.  Allen  has  sheM-n  me  a  paixiphlet,* 
which,  he  says,  was  sent  to  him  by  the  post;  though  I 
had  seen  the  title,  without  knowing  what  to  make  of  it,  in 
the  newspapers.  I  have  read  it,  and  you  may  judge 
with  v/hat  sentiments.  Though  I  have  no  ^«fa  to  judge 
from  what  quarter  it  comes,  yet  I  am  as  sure  of  the  author 
as  if  I  had  seen  it  written :  for  1  know  but  of  one  man 
from  whose  heart  or  whose  pen  so  fine  a  piece  ot  irony 
could  come.  Therefore,  if  I  be  mistaken,  do  not  unde- 
ceive me  ;  for  the  pleasure  of  thinkhig  from  whence  it 
comes  to  me,  is  as  great  as  the  gift.  In  the  mean  time, 
I  say  to  every  body  else  (even  to  Mr.  Allen,  who  however 
on  the  first  reading  told  me  that  the  keen  softness,  the 
politeness,  and  the  delicacy,  he  thought,  could  come  but 
from  one  hand)  what  I  say  to  you,  that  I  have  had  no 
data  to  judge  of  the  author  ;  that  I  saw  it  first  by  accident 
after  the  publication;  and  that  I  am  sure  Mr.  Jortin  will 
do  me  the  justice  to  think  1  had  no  hand  in  it,  because  I 
am  sure  he  does  not  think  I  am  able  ;  in  which  he  is  not  out. 

I  will  be  frank  with  you  ;  next  to  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
myself  so  finely  praised,  is  the  satisfaction  I  take  in  seeing 
Jortin  mortified.  I  know  to  what  degree  it  will  do  it. 
He  deserves  to  be  mortified  on  this  occasion  :  it  will  do 
him  good,  and  this  is  the  worst  I  wish  him.  There  was 
but  one  thing  that  I  in  good  earnest  resented  for  its  base- 
ness, and  grieved  at  for  its  meanness.  It  is  where,  speaking 
of  Libcunus^  (I  think  in  the  Sixth  Dissertation,  I  am  sure 
in  one  of  the  six,)  he  evidently  insinuates  that  Julian  was 

*  Entitled,  On  the  Dflicacij  ofFrienduMp.    A  Seventh  Dissei  tatimi  iifidre^s- 
•fl 'o  the  author  of  ilif  SLrf'i.     If. 


154 

fluirdered  by  some  Christians  amongst  his  own  soldiers. 
You  know  I  have  a  large  note  in  my  Julian  to  refute  this 
calumny:  and  at  the  conclusion  of  it,  it  is  that  I  refer  the 
determination  to  Jortin  in  that  compliment,  that  the 
author  of  the  seventh  Dissertation  makes  so  fine  a  use  of. 
And  this  is  the  determination  that  this  amiable-minded  man 
tliinks  fit  to  make  upon  the  occasion.  Seriously,  I  think 
I*  have  in  this  elegant  raillery  more  than  full  satisfaction 
ior  all  that  torrent  of  ribaldry  that  has  gone  over  me  {cind 
yet  here  I  am,  as  Justice  Shallow  says  in  the  play)  since 
first  I  commenced  author.  I  have  told  you  my  pleasure 
in  seeing  this  piece  ;  but  I  will  not  say  one  word  of  my 
gratitude  to  the  author  ;  and  only  one  word  of  my  wonder, 
that  so  finished  a  thing  was  composed  and  printed  almost  as 
soon  as  Jortin's  heavy  book  could  get  into  people's  hands. 

You  are  very  good  to  our  friends  at  Grantham,  to  take 
notice  of  those  two  boys ;  but  the  boast  of  their  being- 
known  to  ycu  will  do  tliem  so  much  credit,  and  perhaps 
make  them  aspire  to   deserve,  that  it  is  but  charity. 

1  mentioned  to  our  excellent  friend  my  intention  of  put- 
ting the  Fiexu  of  Bolinghroke  into  the  hands  of  the  people 
in  a  small  and  cheap  volume.  You  will  see  one  advertised 
after  the  holydays,  called  the  5a'(//2^  edition.  But  this  is 
not  it.  This  is  in  the  large  size:  and  only  the  two  first 
letters,  and  the  Apology,  now  prefixed,  are  corrected,  just 
as  they  will  appear  in  the  sniall-sized  volume,  to  which  I 
have  put  the  last  hand  ;  the  third  and  fourth  letters  in  this 
avo  edition  being  just  as  they  were  at  first.  I  have  a  par- 
ticular pariiality  for  these  Letters,  as  you  may  perceive 
by  my  saying  so  much  of  them,  and  perhaps  with  as  little 
reason  as  most  partialities  are  founded  on. 

The  other  day  INIrs.  Allen  was  saying  you  talked  when 
you  was  here  in  Summer,  of  coming  hither  at  Christmas, 
im-  that  you  had  some  da}s  then  to  spare;  and  seems  to 
think  \'ou  v/ill ;   for   I  will   assure   you   I  never   saw  her 


155 

receive  so  much  pleasure  in  any  visit  as  in  that,  I  told 
her,  if  you  did,  I  had  forgot.  But  what  if  you  tried  to 
divert  your  melancholy  by  a  trip  hither  ?  I  can  cany  you 
back  the  latter  end  of  January. 

Our  honest  friend,  the  little  Persona  Dramatis^  will  I 
suppose  be  with  you  at  Christmas,  or  rather  is  with  you 
already,  as  I  judged  by  Athelstaii's  going  to  be  put  in 
rehearsal.  Remember  me  kindly  to  him  ;  and  tell  him  I 
suppose  it  was  not  on  the  invitation  of  a  Muse,  but  ra- 
ther of  a  Grace,  that  he  has  been  kept  so  long  at  New- 
castle* 


LETTER    LXXXIX. 

HAD  not  your  genius  detected  you,  you  would  other- 
wise have  been  found  out  by  me.  To  have  hid  your- 
self in  the  crowd  of  those  who  call  themselves  one's 
friends,  you  should  have  employed  that  sobriety  and  retenile 
which  you  so  finely  celebrate,  instead  of  that  profusion  of 
heart,  which  belongs  but  to  one  friend  in  an  age,  and  so 
distinguishes  him  from  every  body  else.  The  public  will 
have  it  that  I  wrote  this  Dissertation  myself  ;  which,  was 
it  not  for  the  malignity  of  the  compliment,  I  should  re- 
ceive with  much  satisfaction. 

If  Mr.  Balguy  knows  that  I  am  let  into  the  secret,  let 
him  understand  how  kindly  I  take  his  part  in  it. 

I  dare  say  it  will  have  the  effect  of  Ithuriel's  spear,  the 
best  effect  I  could  wish  it,  of  restoring  the  Remarker  to 
his  real  form. 

Prior-Park^  December  29th^  1755, 


156 


LETTER  XC, 

December  30th^  17 S5. 
"WHO  the)'  arc  of  jortin's  friends  you  have  met  with, 
I  don't  know  ;  but  they  must  be  dirty  fellows  indeed  who 
can  think  I  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  his  mean,  low, 
and  ungnueful  conduct  towards  .me  ;  or  that  the  Pamphlet, 
which  expresses  so  much  resentment  of  it,  was  of  my 
wriiing.  Jortin  is  himself  as  vain  as  he  is  dirty,  to  ima- 
gine I  am  obliged  to  him  for  holding  his  hand.  And 
perhaps,  if  the  truth  were  known,  it  was  to  this  insolence 
he  must  ascribe  the  seventh  Di^'so-talion.  Nobody  has 
Vet  written  against  me,  but  at  their  own  expense  ;  and  if 
he  be  a  gainer,  I  will  forgive  him.  The  prolusion  oi 
compliment  in  the  Dissertation  is  so  great,  that  he  must 
be  very  malignant  who  can  suppose  I  gave  it  to  myself; 
and,  at  t'le  same  time,  so  warm,  that  he  must  be  very 
dull,  not  to  see  it  came  from  a  generous  and  zealous 
Iriend.  Whoever  he  be,  I  envy  him,  that  he  has  got  the 
start  of  me  ;  and  that  it  was  not  my  good  fortune  to  do 
that  ior  hirn,  which  he  has  done  for  me;  that  is  to  say, 
g-'ivs  a  seasonable  reproof  to  little  low  envy  under  the  mask 
of  friendship.  And  1  wish  you  would  take  an  opportuni- 
ty to  say  all  this,  from  me,  and  in  my  name,  to  those 
friends  of  Dr.  Jortin. 

I  am  fk'v. 


157 


LETTER  XCI. 

AS  to  old  Maynard,  perhaps  you  may  understand   him 
best  by  comparison.    He  and  Whitlock  were  both  Lawyers 
of  familv,  and  in  the  Long  Parliament ;  both  of  the  Pres- 
byterian faction  ;  both  learned  and  eminent  in  their  pro- 
fession ;  moderate,  sage,  and  steady.     So  far  they  agreed= 
In  this  they  differed  ;   Maynard  had   strong  parts,  with  a 
serious   modesty  ;    Whitlock  was   Aveak   and   vain  ;    and, 
by  these  defects  only,  more   self-interested.     A  sense   oi 
honour  made  Maynard  stick  to  the  Presbyterian    faction 
and  to  fall  7vith  them  ;  but,  as  he  had  much   phlegm  and 
catition,  not,  like   Hollis    and  Stapleton  to  fall  for  them. 
So  that   he    was  never  marked  out  by  the   Independents 
for  their  first  sacrifices.     On  the  contrary  ;  Whitlock  for- 
sook  his   party    in   distress  ;  but,  as    he   had  the    other's 
moderation,  it  was  by    slow  and  gentle  degrees  ;  and  so, 
as    it   happened,  decently.     But  his  weakness  and  vanity, 
which  exposed  him  to  the  gross  flattery  of  the  Independ- 
ent leaders,  had  at  least   an   equal  share  in  this  with  his 
selfishness,  which  made  him  follow  their  power.     From 
this  time,  he  was  with  every  party  that  v\^as  uppermost  ; 
so  that  by   the   time  the   King  came  in,  he  was  grown  so 
contemptiI)le,  rather  than  obnoxious,  (for  he  never  abused 
his  interest,)  that  he  was  only  fit  to  be  forgot ;  though  he 
had  had  the  early  friendship  of  Hyde.     While  Maynard, 
by  adhering  steadily,  but   not  violently,  to  the   party  he 
set  ftut  with,    was    reverenced  by    all ;    and  had  he  not 
been  more  intent  on  the  aifairs  of  his  profession,  than  on 
public  business,  might  have  become   considerable  by  sta- 
tion.    He   went  through  the  whole  reign  of  Charles  and 
James   II.   with  the  same   steady  pace,  and  the  same  ad- 
herence   to    his  party  :    but  by  his  party  I  rather  mean 
Presbytery  for  the  sake  of  civil  liberty,  than  to  civil  liberty 


158 

for  the  sake  oH  Presbyter}-.  lie  lived,  you  know,  to  sec 
the  Revolution,  and  made  that  fine  reply  to  the  Prince  of 
Orange's  compliment — from  whence  you  might  take  occa- 
sion to  lay  the  scene  in  the  evening  of  that  day.  It  is 
natural  to  suppose  two  or  three  of  his  intimates  of  the 
young  Lawyers  came  that  evening  to  compliment  him  on 
the  credit  he  had  done  their  profession  at  that  audience. 

My  dearest  friend,  how  kind  are  your  congratulations 
on  my  son  !  If  he  lives  to  be  brought  up  in  the  fear  of 
God,  and  the  love  of  good  men,  like  you,  he  is  then  to 
be  reckoned  amongst  those  true  blessings  which  Provi- 
dence has  so  largely  bestowed  on  me. 

I  propose  to  be  in  town  in  about  ten  days  time.  I  hope 
warm  weather  will  soon  come  on,  to  bring  you  thither  in 
your  way  to  the  sea,  and  to  turn  into  Bedford-Row,  where 
a  College  preparation  shall  be  made  for  you  ;  that  is  to 
say,  a  bed,  a  dish  of  tea,  and  a  piece  of  mutton,  while 
you  stay  with  us. 

Prior-Park^  May  %th^   IToG. 


LETTER  XCIL 

Mr.  HURD  to  Dr.  WARBURTON. 

Cainbridge^  December  SOth^  1756. 

REV.    SIR, 

1  HAVE  so  many  things  to  thank  you  for  in  your  fa- 
vour of  the  25th,  that  I  hardly  know  which  to  begin  with  first, 
I  take  that  which  interests  me  most,  1  mean  your  project- 
ed Preface  to  the  second  volume  of  the  Legation.  If  the 
former  is  to  be  only  displaced,  I  have  no  objection.  But 
if  you  mean  to  leave  it  quite  out,  I  cannot  easily  give  my 
assent.     I  know  that  a  great  part  of  it  was  chiefly  proper 


159 

to  the  time.  And  Webster  you  think  too  insignificant  (if, 
besides,  the  poor  man  were  not  disabused  before  now)  to 
have  this  distinction  continued  to  him.  Yet,  for  all  this, 
I  shall  regret  the  loss.  I  think  it,  in  point  of  writing, 
one  of  your  master-pieces.  The  paragraph  to  the  memory 
of  Bishop  Hare  is  so  fine  in  itself,  and  lets  one  into  so 
much  of  your  own  friendly  temper,  that  I  would  not  part 
with  it.  And  the  concluding  page  to  the  Universities 
flatters  me,  as  a  Member  of  one  of  them,  to  that  degree, 
that  I  must  needs  wish  to  preserve  that.  'Tis  true  you 
have  been  ill  recompensed  for  the  noblest  compliment  that 
ever  was  paid  them.  Many  individuals,  at  least,  of  both 
Universities,  have  shewn  how  little  they  deserved  this 
honour.  But  the  rising  generation,  I  trust,  will  be  wiser. 
I  can  assure  you  that  the  more  ingenious  and  promising 
of  those  that  are  getting  up  in  this  place  are  much  devoted 
to  you.  Your  books  are  in  their  hands,  and  they  value 
themselves  upon  the  esteem  they  have  for  them.  On  this 
account,  I  cannot  enough  rejoice  at  your  editions  of  our 
two  great  Poets.  Young  people  will  be  reading  such 
things  ;  and  the  acquaintance  they  make  by  this  means 
*  ith  their  Commentator  leads  them  afterwards  much  fur- 
ther. I  know  this  by  some  experience.  At  the  same 
time,  I  must  own  to  you,  my  own  case  was  different  ; 
and  having  this  occasion  to  speak  of  it,  I  will  tell  you  what 
it  was. 

For  the  first  years  of  my  residence  in  the  University, 
when  I  was  labouring  through  the  usual  courses  of  Logic, 
Mathematics,  and  Philosophy,  I  heard  little  of  your  name 
and  writings  :  and  the  little  I  did  hear,  was  not  likely  to 
encourage  a  young  man,  that  was  under  direction,  to  in- 
quire further  after  either.  In  the  mean  time  I  grew  up 
into  the  use  of  a  little  common  sense  ;  my  commerce  with 
the  people  of  the  place  was  enlarged.  Still  the  clamours 
increased  against  vou,  and  the  appearance  of  your  seconei 


160 

volume  opened  many  mouths.  I  was  then  Bachelor  ot' 
Arts  ;  and,  having  no  immediate  business  on  my  hands, 
I  was  led,  by  a  spirit  of  perverseness,  to  see  what  there 
yvi\s  in  these  decried  volumes,  that  had  given  such  offence. 

To  say  the  truth,  there  had  been  so  much  apparent  bi- 
gotry and  insolence  in  the  invectives  I  had  heard?  though 
echoed,  as  was  said,  from  men  of  note  amongst  us, 
that  I  wished,  perhaps  out  of  pure  spite,  to  find  them 
ill-founded.  And  I  doubt  I  was  half  determined  in  yom* 
favour  before  I  knew  any  thing  of  the  merits  of  the  case. 

The  efi'ect  of  all  this  was,  that  I  took  the  Divine  Lega- 
tion down  with  me  Into  the  country,  where  I  was  going  to 
spend  the  summer  of,  I  think,  1741,  with  my  friends. 
I  there  read  the  three  volumes  at  my  leisure,  and  with  the 
impression  I  shall  never  forget.  I  returned  to  College 
the  Winter  following,  not  so  properly  your  convert,  as 
all  over  spleen  and  prejudice  against  your  defamers. 
From  that  time,  I  think,  I  am  to  date  my  friendship  with 
you.  There  was  something  in  your  mind,  still  more  than 
in  the  matter  of  your  book,  that  struck  me.  In  a  word,  I 
grew  a  constant  reader  of  you.  I  inquired  after  your  other 
works.  I  got  the  Alliance  into  my  hands,  and  met  with 
the  Essay  on  Portents  and  Prodigies^  which  last  I  liked  the 
i<etter,  and  still  like  it,  because  I  understood  it  was  most 
abused  by  those  v/ho  owed  you  no  good-will.  Things 
^\  ere  in  this  train  when  the  Comment  on  Pope  appeared. 
That  Comment,  and  the  connexion  I  chanced  then  to  have 
A\ith  Sir  Edward  Littleton,  made  me  a  poor  critic:  and 
in  that  condition  you  found  me.  I  became,  on  the  sudden, 
your  acquaintance ;  and  am  now  happy  in  being  your 
friend.  You  have  here  a  slight  sketch  of  my  history,  at  least 
of  the  only  part  of  it  which  will  ever  deserve  notice.  But  in 
giving  it  I  have  wandered  too  far  from  my  purpose,  to 
which  I  return. 

As  I  said,  I  cannot  easily  bring  myself  to  give  up  the 
old  Preface.     Otherwise,  this  has  the  advantage  greatly  in 


161 

many  respects.  Taylor  is  a  more  creditable  dunce  thac 
Webster;  and  the  subject  is  not  so  personal  as  the  other. 
As  to  the  manner  of  introducing  it,  I  can  trust  your  judg- 
ment to  choose  the  best.  I  cannot  but  think  what  you  men- 
tion an  extremely  proper  one.  But  of  this  I  cannot  deter- 
mine so  well,  as  I  have  not  seen  the  Discourse  itself.  But, 
by  the  way,  what  do  you  think  to  do  widi  the  Appendix  to 
this  volume  against  Tillard  and  Si/ies  ?  I  would  not  lose 
them  on  any  account.  And  why  might  not  Taylor  rank 
with  them  ?  After  all,  keep  me  but  the  old  Preface  in  some 
shape  or  other,  and  I  will  have  no  dispute  with  you  about 
the  place. 

You  have  my  best  thanks  for  your  observations  on  the 
second  volume.  I  need  not  say  how  much  it  flatters  my 
vanity  and  my  laziness  to  find  them  so  few.  But  what  1 
have  most  reason  to  value  myself  upon,  is  in  reprobating, 
as  I  had  done  in  my  own  mind,  the  two  notes  you  lay  your 
finger  upon.  I  am  certainly,  I  begin  to  say  to  myself,  a 
no  despicable  critic,  that  have  so  true  a  judgment  in  discern- 
ing my  own  faults.  You  had  never  given  me  the  least  hint  of 
them  ;  yet  they  were  both  in  my  thoughts  when  I  said  there 
were  some  things  in  this  second  volume  to  strike  out. 
You  see  how  arrogant  I  am  in  taking  the  merit  of  this  cen- 
sure to  myself. 

The  supplement  to  the  Discourse  on  Poetical  Imitation, 
is  not,  I  am  afraid,  what  you  would  expect  from  it.  By 
the  way,  your  hint  from  Tacitus  furnishes  a  fine  exampU 
of  what  I  much  wanted.  To  save  myself  trouble,  and  to 
give  it  the  air  of  rt^rfW7e77f,  which  the  fastidious,  you  know, 
look  for  in  these  matters,  I  have  thrown  it  into  a  letter  at 
the  end  of  the  volume,  and  have  addressed  it  to  Mr. 
Mason,  because  I  had  a  mind  to  give  him  this  little  mark 
of  my  esteem.  I  fancy  you  will  have  no  objection  to  this 
form ;  (and  the  rather,  as  the  insertion  of  three  or  four  sheets 

X 


J  62 

would  hurt  tlie  order  of  the  other  discourse,  which  besides 
is  already  too  long;)  and  for  what  is  wanting  in  the  matter^ 
if  the  form  will  not  excuse  that  defect,  I  know  you  will 
easily  supply  it.     I  am,  &c. 

R.  KURD. 


LETTER  XCIir. 

Prior-Park^  Januarif  2d^  1757. 
YOUR  little  History  is  very  dear  to  me,  though  it  calls 
the  sins  of  my  youth  to  remembrance.  I  was  very  much 
a  boy  when  I  wrote  that  thing  about  Prodigies,  and  I 
had  never  the  courage  to  look  into  it  since  ;  so  I  have  quite 
forgot  all  the  nonsense  that  it  contains.  But  since  you 
mention  it,  I  will  tell  you  how  it  came  to  see  the  light.  I 
met  many  years  ago  with  an  ingenious  Irishman  at  a  Coffee 
house  near  Gray's-Inn,  where  I  lodged.  He  studied  the 
law,  and  was  very  poor.  I  had  given  him  money  for  many 
a  dinner  ;  and,  at  last,  I  gave  him  those  papers,  which  he 
sold  to  the  bookselltrs  for  more  money  than  you  would 
think,  much  more  than  they  were  worth.  But  I  must  finish 
the  history  both  of  the  Irishman  and  the  papers.  Soon 
after,  he  got  acquainted  with  Sir  William  Younge,  wrote 
for  Sir  Robert,  and  was  made  Attorney -General  of  Ja- 
maica: he  married  there  an  opulent  widow,  and  died  very 
rich  a  few  j^ears  ago  here  in  England ;  but  of  so  scoundrel 
a  temper,  that  he  avoided  ever  coming  into  my  sight:  so 
that  the  memory  of  all  this  intercourse  between  us  has  been 
buried  in  silence  till  this  moment.  And  who  should  this 
man  be  but  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  Ti\xx\c\zdyCo7ica)inen  hy 
name ! 

The  papers  had  a  similar  fortune.     A  few  years  before 
Curl's  death,  he  wrote  me  a  letter  to  acquaint  me  he  had 


163 

bought  the  property  of  my  excellent  Discourse  ;  and  that, 
as  it  had  been  long  out  of  print,  he  was  going  to  reprint 
it ;  only  he  desired  to  know  if  I  had  any  additions 
or  alterations  to  make,  he  should  be  glad  of  the  honour  of 
receiving  them.  The  writer,  and  the  contents  of  his 
letter,  very  much  alarmed  me  ;  so  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Knapton 
to  go  to  the  fellow,  and  buy  my  book  of  him  again, 
which  he  did  ;  and  so  ended  this  ridiculous  affair,  which 
may  be  a  warning  to  young  scribblers. 

I  had  passed  a  thorough  condemnation  on  the  Preface; 
but  on  your  pleading  for  this  culprit,  I  have  looked  at  it. 
I  don't  know  what^  to  say.  If  I  can  make  any  thing  of  it, 
and  reform  it  to  my  mind,  and  you  be  really  in  earnest,  it 
may  stand.  If  this  should  be  the  case,  which  nothing 
but  your  authority  could  induce  me  to  think  of,  then  I 
propose  to  put  Taylor  into  a  Preface  to  the  second  part : 
for,  if  you  observe,  I  begin  upon  a  new  subject,  and  it  is 
much  better  divided  than  the  first  volume. 


LETTER  XClV. 

Mr.  HURDto  Dr,  WARBURTON. 

Cambridge^  January  9th^  1757' 
YOU  may  be  sure  I  was  not  a  little  pleased  with   the 

/iome  things  you  say  in  your  letter  to .  I  could  not  resist 

the  temptation  of  taking  a  copy  of  the  Jirsi  part  of  it. 
You  will  guess  for  what  reason,  and  will  excuse  the  liberty. 
I  wonder  your  correspondent  could  be  so  much  off  his 
guard  as  to  give  you  such  an  opening.  It  was  very  indis- 
creet to  bring  you  and  his  politicians  so  near  together.  I 
honour  your  frankness  in  telling  him  so  roundly  what  you 
thought  of  the  latter. 


164 

Your  generosity  to  the  Dunciad-hero  exemplifies  the 
just  observation  you  make  in  the  letter  to  the  Editor  of 
the  three  Letters^  "  that  excess,  though  in  the  social  pas- 
'*  sions,lays  us  more  open  to  popular  censure  than  even  the 
"  total  ^vant  of  ihem."  I  say  this  the  rather,  because 
your  calumniators,  you  may  be  sure,  have  not  failed  to  buzz 
about  this  quondam  connexion  with  a  man  who  so  little  de- 
served the  honour  of  it.  But  the  triumphs  of  such  men  are 
evt-r  owing  to  their  dulness  or  their  meanness.  The  latter  is 
the  case  at  present.  Having  no  affections  themselves,  it 
is  no  wonder  they  are  not  liable  to  such  illusions;  and 
judging  from  themselves,  it  is  no  wonder  they  condemn  in 
others  what  they  have  not  hearts  good  enough  to  under- 
stand.    For,  as  the  virtuous  Cowley  said  well. — 

Th'  heroic  exaltations  of  good 
Are  so  far  from  understood 

We  count  them  v  ice — 
We  look  not  upon  virtue  ia  her  height. 
On  her  supreme  idea,  brave  and  bright ; 

In  the  original  liglit : 
But  as  her  beams  reflected  pass 
Thro'  our  nature,  or  ill  custom's  glass. 

And  now  let  your  revilers  make  their  best  of  your 
acquaintance  with  Matthew  Concannen,  Esq. 

But  I  have  more  to  say  to  your  quondam  Authorship. 
You  have  a  right  to  undervalue  your  first  attempts  in 
literature  as  much  as  you  please.  The  so  much  greater 
things  you  have  done  since,  are  your  warrant  for  so  doing. 
But  I  should  not  be  very  patient  of  this  language  from  any 
other.  The  truth  is,  and  1  am  not  afraid  to  say  it  roundly  to 
any  man  :  not  one  of  all  the  wretches  that  have  written  or  rail 
against  you,  and  who  effect  to  fuid  great  consolation  in  this 
first  escape  of  your  pen,  was  ever  able  in  the  acme  of  his  parts 
and  judgment  to  produce  any  thing  half  so  good.  Mr. 
jialguy  and  I  read  it  together  some  years  ago,  and  w^e 
figiccd  there  was  the  same  ingenuity   of  sentiment  and 


165 

vigour  of  expression  as  in  your  other  works:  in  a  word, 
that  it  was  a  fine  effort  of  genius,  not  yet  formed  indeed 
and  matured,  but  even  in  this  juvenility  portending  plainly 
enough  what  you  were  one  day  to  be  capable  of.  I  have 
read  it  again  very  lately,  and  I  think  of  it  just  the  same; 
so  that  I  almost  blame  your  anxiety  about  Curl's  edition. 
It  v/as  not  worth,  perhaps,  your  owning  in  form.  But 
reputation  was  not  concerned  to  suppress  it.  One  sees 
in  it  your  early  warmth  in  the  cause  of  virtue  and  public 
liberty,  and  your  original  way  of  striking  out  new  hints 
on  common  subjects.  There  are  many  fine  observations 
up  and  down  j  amongst  which,  that  in  the  Dedication,  on 
the  characters  of  the  three  great  Romans,  which  you 
have  since  adopted  in  the  notes  on  Pope,  is  admirable. 
In  running  it  over  this  last  time,  I  find  I  have  stolen  a 
hint  from  you  which  I  was  not  aware  of.  It  is  what  I  say 
of  the  Apes  of  Plato  and  Aristotle,  in  page  79  of  the 
Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  Augustus,  taken  from 
what  you  say  in  page  9  on  that  subject.  I  should  not  have 
said  so  much  on  this  matter,  (for  I  am  as  much  above  the 
thought  of  flattering  you,  as  you  are  above  the  want  of  it,) 
but  that  I  think  your  shyness  in  acknowledging  this  little 
prolusion  of  your  genius,  gives  a  handle  to  your  lo\y 
malignant  cavillers,  which  you  need  not  have  afforded 
them.  I  must  further  request  it  of  you,  as  a  favour,  that, 
if  Knapton  has  not  destroyed  the  copies,  you  would  oblige 
me  with  half  a  dozen,  or  so,  which  you  may  trust 
me  to  dispose  of  in  a  proper  manner.  I  ask  it  the 
rather,  because  I  could  never  get  one  into  my  own 
possession.  I  have  tried  several  times,  and  now  very 
lately  this  winter  out  of  Baker's  sale;  but  it  was  bought 
up  before  I  could  order  it.  Such  a  curiosity  have  both 
your  friends  and  enemies  to  treasure  up  this  proscribed 
volume. 


166 

i  have  thought  again  of  this  Preface  to  the  second  vo- 
lume of  the  Legation.  I  think  it  not  so  proper  to  intro- 
duce it  before  the  second  part.  I  am,  besides,  afraid  of 
your  altering  it  too  much.  I  will  tell  you  then  what  has 
come  into  my  head.  When  one  of  these  days  you  make 
a  complete  collection  of  your  Works,  you  must  by  all 
means  put  together  your  controversial  pieces  by  them- 
selves. They  will  make,  I  believe,  about  a  couple  of 
volumes  ;  and  ibis  Preface  may  come  in  amongst  the  rest^ 
entire,  as  it  now  stands  under  the  title  of  "  The  Preface 
*'  to  the  first  edition  of  the  second  volume  in  1740."  I 
think  this  proposal,  on  all  accounts,  the  best.  And  then 
Taylor  may  stand  where  you  first  designed,  and  where 
indeed  he  will  figure  to  most  advantage.  Pray  tell  me 
immediately  what  you  think  of  this  proposal. 

I  shall  perhaps  write  again  in  a  post  or  two  ;  for  I  have 
other  matters  to  trouble  you  with  in  abundance.  But  I 
have  tired  you  pretty  well  for  the  present. 

R.  KURD 


LETTER  XCV. 

YOU  will  always  do  well  to  take  what  copies  of  any 
papers  I  send  you,  you  s^ee  proper.  Those  villains, 
if  any  such  there  be,  who  upbiaid  me  with  my  acquaint- 
ance and  correspondence  with  the  gentlemen  of  the  Dun- 
ciad,  know  I  at  the  same  time  proclaimed  it  to  the  world 
in  Tibbald's  edition  of  Shakcspear,  in  Mr.  Pope's  life- 
time. Till  his  letters  were  published,  I  had  as  indiffer 
ent  an  opinion  of  his  morals  as  they  pretended  to  have. 
Mr.  Pope  knew  this,  and  had  the  justice  to  own  to  rae 
that  I  fairly  followed  appearances,  when  I  thought  well 
of  them,  and    ill   of    him.     He   owned  indeed   that    on 


167 

reading  that  edition,  he  was  sorry  to  find  a  man  of  ge- 
nius got  amongst  them,  for  he  told  me  he  was  greatly  struck 
with  my  notes.  This  conversation  happened  to  pass  in 
company,  on  one  of  them  saying,  they  wondered  I  would 
give  any  thing  to  such  a  fellow  as  Tibbald  :  Mr.  Pope 
said  iin/nediately,  there  was  no  wonder  at  all  :  I  took 
him  for  an  honest  man,  as  he  had  done,  and  on  that  toot- 
ing had  visited  him — and  then  followed  what  I  relate 
above.  This  was  the  only  time  the  subject  ever  came  upon 
the  tapis.  For  he  was  too  delicate  to  mention  any  thing  oi 
it  to  me  alone. 

I  am  glad  you  consent  to  my  first  thoughts  of  omitting 
the  former  short  Preface,  at  pi'esent  at  least.  As  Gib- 
ber supplied  the  place  of  Tibbald,  (whom  we  have  been 
talking  of,)  so  shall  Taylor  take  the  place  of  Webster, 
though  I  v^'ill  tell  you  my  mind  sincerely,  I  do  not  think 
he  has  nearly  so  good  an  understanding  as  Webster. 
But  it  requires  an  infinitely  better  than  either  of  them  has 
to  understand  this  plainest  of  truths,  that  the  moat  leurneil 
Dunce,  xvhen^  or  xvherever,  lie  exists^  retncdns  still  tlh. 
same  Dunce  in  luhich  he  came  into  the  world. 

I  will  not  forget  your  fond  request,  when  I  see  Mr. 
Knapton. 

You  will  be  pleased  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  vigor- 
ously engaged  both  in  the  second  and  last  volume  of  the 
Divine  Legation.  I  am  correcting  the  second,  and  re- 
gulating the  whole  plan  of  the  third.  The  second  part 
of  the  second  especially  will  be  new  run  and  new  founded  ; 
and  what  the  Rabbins  say  of  Aaron's  foundery  will,  I 
hope,  be  reversed  ;  and  that  which  went  in  a  calf,  will 
come  out  a  man.  But  what  is  man  !  A  fit  of  spleen, 
a  fit  of  illness,  and  lastly  death  may  wipe  out  all  these 
glorious  visions  v.ith  which  my  brain  at  present  is  painted 
over:  as  Law  said  it  once  was  (but  falsely)  with  hiero- 
glyphics.    But  I  hope  the  best,  because  I  only  aim  at  the 


168 

honour  of  God  and  good  of  man.  When  I  say  this,  I 
need  not  perhaps  add  (as  I  do  with  the  utmost  serious- 
ness) that  I  shall  never  wittingly  advance  one  falsehood, 
or  conceal  or  disguise  one  truth. 

I  hope  I  need  not  say  that  hearing  from  you  always 
gives  me  the  greatest  pleasure. 

I  believe,  I  and  my  wife  shall  set  forward  for  London 
in  the  beginning  of  February.  ]Mr.  Allen,  I  suppose^ 
not  till  the  beginning  of  March.  He  is  afraid  of  the 
smell  of  the  paint. 

I  think  I  can  say  what  I  have  to  say  about  similar  rites 
and  customs  (at  the  end  of  the  first  part)  in  a  reasonable 
compass.  It  will  consist  only  of  a  number  of  instances 
of  similar  customs  of  a  striking  nature,  which  all  would 
judge  imitations  and  traduciive,  if  that  system  be  the 
true  :  yet,  by  reason  of  the  distance  of  place,  the  parties 
being  utter  strangers  to  one  another,  the  circumstances  of 
societies,  the  interests  of  the  bodies  practising,  the  evi- 
dence of  the  passions,  situations,  conditions,  &c.  which 
gave  birth  to  them,  we  must  needs  pronounce  no  imita- 
tions. The  consequence  is,  that  the  general  solution  of 
this  phenomenon  is  in  our  common  nature.  Whether 
you  will  like  this  plan,  I  know  not.  For  I  have  no  more 
to  say.  You  have  been  beforehand  with  me  in  delivering 
the  philosophic  principles  of  these  conclusions,  though 
on  a  more  particular  question,  poetical  itnitation.  How- 
ever pray  tell  me  what  you  think  of  it.  If  you  don't  tho- 
roughly approve  of  it,  pray  say  so  ;  for  I  should  be  glad  to 
be  excused  the  trouble,  when  I  have  so  many  other  parts 
of  the  book  to  retouch.  I  can  tell  you  beforehand  this  will 
be  to  yours,  what  Pope's  Essay  on  Women  is  to  his  Es- 
say on  Man. 

Prior-Park,  January   \2tlu  1757. 


169 


LETTER  XCVl. 

I  HAVE  received  your  little  packet.  I  trust  to  yaur 
judgment  about  the  quotation.  Without  affectation,  I 
don't  remember  a  single  thought  in  that  little  essay,  having 
never  looked  into  it  since  the  time  of  publishing  it.  I  re- 
member, the  Speaker  (who  had  the  curiosity  to  have  it 
bought  for  him  at  an  auction)  spoke  to  me  of  it  in  his 
bombast  way  ;  but  I  thought  no  better  of  it  for  that,  be- 
cause I  imagined  the  turgidness  of  a  young  scribbler 
might  please  his  magnificent  spirit,  always  upon  the  stilts. 

You  have  so  well  polished  Virgil's  Shield,  that  it  is 
yours  of  right ;  and  I  desire  you  will  give  me  leave  to 
quote  It  Jrom  yoiu 

You  have  so  well  entered  into  my  idea  of  the  callida 
juncturtty  that  I  think  it  excellent. 

I  could  not  forbear  sending  you  a  fine  spirited  dialogue 
from  a  comedy  of  Shirley,  called  "  The  Changes,  or 
"  Love  in  a  Maze."  You  will  be  pleased  with  it ;  but 
not  so  with  the  introduction  to  it :  because  I  take  occa- 
sion from  your  note  of  \h&  junctura  to  introduce  it,  when, 
on  reflection,  it  has  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  it.  But 
the  humour  of  the  dialogue  will  amuse  you. 

I  am  more  satisfied  with  another  scrap  of  paper  I  send 
you  for  your  Dialogue  on  the  Constitution  ;  where  I  en- 
deavour to  obviate  an  objection  that  might  be  retorted  on 
your  main  principle.  You  may  venture  the  freedom  of 
it  in  the  mouth  of  a  Maynard. 

I  think  your  emendation  oi  shuts  iox  shakes ^  is  excellent 
and  incontestible.  It  clears  up  what  stuck  so  much  with 
me — the  tyrannous  breathing'  of  the  North.  Plad  Jortin 
played  the  hypercritic  in  this  manner,  the   world  \voul(J 

y 


170 

have  suspected  that  I  had  other  reasons  for  mj-  tuniplaints 
besides  want  of  friendship. 

What  you  say  of  Heathcote  is  exactly  right.  His  mat- 
ter is  rational,  but  superficial  and  thin  spread.  He  will 
prove  as  great  a  scribbler  as  Comber.  They  are  both  sensi- 
ble, and  both  have  reading.  The  difference  is,  that  the 
one  has  so  much  vivacity  as  to  make  him  ridiculous  ;  the 
other  so  little,  as  to  be  unentertaining.  Comber's  exces- 
sive vanity  may  be  matched  by  Heathcote's  pride  ;  which 
I  think  is  a  much  worse  quality — if  we  may  call  these 
two  qualities,  when  they  arise  from  the  same  root,  and 
only  receive  this  circumstantial  diversity  from  the  diHerent 
tempers  of  the  subject ;  it  being,  in  a  good-natured  man, 
what  we  call  vanity^  in  an  ill-natured  man,  pride.  Pray 
ask  our  friend  of  St.  John's  whether  my  metaphysico-ethi- 
cal  philosophy  be  right.  He  is  one  of  the  best  judges  I 
know,  because  I  think  he  lias  of  this  quality,  or  quali- 
ties, neither  root  nor  branch.  And  he  has  waded  very 
far  into  the  great  latrina  of  humanity,  without  suffering 
himself  to  be  defiled  in  the  passage  :  he  has  been  only  too 
insensible  of  the  insults  of  the  scavengers  that  came  in  his 
way. 

Prior-Park^  January  IStli^  1757. 


LETTER  XCVII- 

Mr,  HURD  to  Dr.  WARBURTON, 

NOTHING  can  be  kinder  than  your  two  favours  of 
the  12th  and  15th.     I  begin  with  the  last,  first. 

You  are  very  good  to  let  me  have  my  humour  in  the 
little  quotation.  To  say  the  truth,  my  only  end  in  it  is  to 
gratify  my  own  spleen.     I  would  give  a  pack  of  wretches 


171 

to  understand,  that  your  friend  can  appeal  to  the  Essay  as 
well  as  they.  And  when  they  know  this,  they  will  be 
sensible  perhaps  of  the  impotency  of  their  malice,  if  of 
nothing  else.  I  like  the  Speaker's  judgment  very  well. 
I  did  not  think  he  had  read  his  Milton  to  so  good  purpose. 
You  are  too  polite,  as  well  as  too  kind  for  me.  Since 
you  will  have  it  so,  the  Shield  shall  pass  as  my  property, 
I  often  think  of  the  old  fable,  so  well  told  in  Mr.  Allen's 
picture.  What  a  figure  should  I  make,  if  my  feathers 
were  well  plucked  ?  'Tis  true,  I  have  this  consola- 
tion :  there  v/ould  be  none  but  Eagle's  feathers  found 
upon  me. 

You  flatter  me  in  saying,  I  have  entered  into  your  idea 
of  the  callida  junctura.  I  thought,  from  looking  into 
Dacier,  that  it  wanted  explanation.  But  I  never  send  a 
hint  to  you  without  being  a  gainer  by  it.  The  short  dia- 
logue you  transcribe  from  Shirley  is  incomparable.  It 
will  make  a  fine  conclusion  to  my  note,  and  shall  stand 
instead  of  the  two  paltry  observations  I  make  on  the 
subject  of  it.  The  remark  will  be  new  too,  as  well  as 
pertinent. 

I  doubt  you  are  too  indulgent  to  the  hypercritical  emen- 
dation. It  is  taking  an  extravagant  liberty  with  the  text. 
But  I  take  for  granted  you  see  nothing  absurd,  at  least, 
in  the  conjecture,  or  you  would  have  mentioned  it.  So  it 
shall  e'en  stand  where  it  does,  as  it  will  help  to  enliven  a 
little  a  very  dry  note. 

I  am  mightily  pleased  with  your  objection  to  my  main 
principle,  and  your  answer  to  it.  It  is  a  very  material 
consideration  ;  and  you  may  be  sure  I  shall  make  my  best 
use  of  it.  I  understand  your  polite  hint  to  Mr  Balguy, 
and  shall  acquaint  him  with  it. 

I  come  now  to  your  other  letter. — I  am  j)roud  of  the 
liberty  you   give  me  of  copying  anv  of  your  papers.      I 


172 

promise  you,  it  shall  not  be  my  fault,  if  any  improper  use 
be  ever  made  of  them, 

I  am  ready  to  quarrel  with  you  for  saving  one  word  of 
your  upbraiders.  This  was  not  treating  me  with  your 
usual  goodness.  Alas,  I  understand  the  condition  of  these 
poor  creatures  so  well,  that  if  you  would  be  ruled  by  me, 
you  should  not  deprive  them  of  this  little  consolation  of 
their  envy.  I  know,  too,  the  reason  of  your  former  dis- 
taste to  Mr.  Pope.  It  was  not  only  his  connexions  with 
some  you  had  reason  to  think  ill  of,  but  his  abuse  of  one 
you  loved.  Was  not  this  the  best  of  reasons  ?  Yet  it 
could  not  be  but  that  two  such  men  would  come  at  length 
to  understand  each  other.  And  when  you  did.  Nature 
had  taken  care  that  you  should  be  fast  friends  for  life. 
But  your  w^orthless  enemies  are  as  quick  at  espying  con- 
tradictions in  your  life,  as  in  ^our  writings.  And  the 
cause  is  not  unlike.  They  want  hearts  to  understand  a 
consistency  in  moral  action  ;  just  as  their  bad  heads  will 
not  let  them  find   out   a  consistency  in  rational  discourse. 

The  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  I  am  satisfied  with 
Taylor's  allotted  station  in  the  new  edition — Sedet  ceter- 
niimque  sedebit. — You  may  be  sure  I  subscribe  to  your 
aphorism. 

I  shall  rely  on  your  thinking  of  me  when  you  see  Mr. 
Knapton.  I  have  a  deal  of  the  Speaker's  curiosity.  I 
would  have  every  thing  that  you  have  ever  written  in  my 
possession. 

Noihing  but  the  love  of  order  (as  befits  a  good  Critic) 
could  have  kept  me  from  touching  on  the  paragraph  I  now 
come  to,  first.  You  delight  me  above  measure  in  saying 
that  you  are  vigorously  employed  about  the  third  \fo\\sxtic. 
of  the  Legation.  I  do  not  expect  to  see  all  your  plans 
filled  up.  For,  besides  that  you  have  many  upon  your 
hands,  you  will  alv/ays  be  forming  new  ones.  But  this 
favourite,  this  capital  one,    must  be   completed.     It  sig- 


173 

nifies  little  that  people  clamour  for  it,  and  expect  it.  You 
owe  it  to  yourself,  to  truth,  and  to  posterity.  You  think 
it  immaterial  perhaps  that  this  monument  of  yourself 
should  be  entire.  And  the  Virtuosi,  for  any  thing  I  know, 
might  like  it  the  better  for  its  not  being  so.  But  who 
hereafter  will  be  able  to  throw  those  lights  on  Religion 
which  these  prepai-atory  volumes  now  enable  you  to  throw 
upon  it  ?  And  would  you  envy  these  lights  to  the  ages  to 
nome^  that  are  more  and  more  likely  to  stand  in  need  of 
them !  I  only  put  these  questions,  to  shew  you  that 
nothing  in  my  opinion  deserves  so  much  the  whole  stretch 
and  application  of  your  parts  and  industry  to  finish,  as  this 
great  work.  I  dare  say  you  will  make  great  improvements 
in  the  other  volumes  ;  for  you  speak  of  great  alterations. 
But  the  completion  of  this  last  is  your  life's  instant  bu- 
siness. And  again  I  must  express  my  delight  at  your 
saying,  that  it  shall  not  be  deferred. 

As  for  the  discourse  on  similar  rites  and  customs^  I  think 
it  of  great  importance  and  curiosity.  And  what  you 
design  upon  the  subject  is  fully  sufficient.  The  philosophy 
of  that  question  will  of  course  be  explained  in  illustrating 
your  instances.  The  true  principle  was  delivered  in  that 
famous  paragraph  in  the  Divine  Legation,  which  Middle- 
ton  in  a  testy  humour  bit  at,  and  broke  his  teeth  upon. 
You  love  to  be  complaisant  to  your  friends.  But  all  my 
wordy  Dissertation  is  only  a  hint  catched  from  you,  and 
applied  to  a  single  inconsiderable  subject.  You  will  now 
consider  it  in  a  much  larger  and  noble  view.  Besides, 
is  it  for  me  to  prevent  you  on  any  subject  by  the  chance 
of  writing  on  it  first  ? 

I  most  firmly  believe  your  generous  declaration,  that 
you  shall  never  rvittingly  advance  one  falsehood^  or  conceal 
or  disguise  one  truth.  And  this  it  is  which,  besides  some 
tender  regards  of  another  nature,  makes  me  so  anxiously 
wish  that  your  health  and  spirits  may  hold  out  with  your 


174 

designs.  It  is  a  serious  truth,  that  the  brightest  visions  that 
were  ever  painted  on  the  human  understanding  are  liable  to 
many  accidents.  But  your  age,  your  vigorous  constitution, 
but  above  all  your  serene  and  happy  life,  disturbed  by  none 
of  those  great  or  little  passions  which  make  such  ravages 
in  other  minds,  are  so  many  arguments  for  the  durability 
of  yours.  And  with  this  grateful  presage  I  conclude  my 
1  o  klter  ;  for  which,  though  it  needs  an  excuse,  I  will 
make  none,  as  knowing  the  entire  indulgence  you 
give  to  every  trouble  that  comes  to  you  from,  dearest 
Sir,  he. 

R.   HURD. 
Emmanuel  College,   January  '■lid,  1757. 

Jamuiry  22d,  1757. 
I  had  written  the  above  letter  yesterday,  foreseeing  that 
I  should  not  have  leisure  for  it  to~day.  Last  night  I  was 
favoured  with  yours  of  the  18th  ;  which,  with  the  inclosed 
papers,  I  shall  shew  to  Mr.  Balguy  this  afternoon,  and 
write  you  our  joint  thoughts  of  it  by  Monday's  post. 
Once  more,  adieu. 


LETTER  XCVIIL 

THE  contents  of  the  inclosed  paper  is  for  a  note  at  p. 
484  of  the  second  volume  of  the  Divine  Legation,  where 
I  enter  upon  the  book  of  Job.  I  occasionally  take  notice 
of  some  of  my  answerers  as  I  go  along,  in  the  notes, 
chiefly  Grey  and  Peters.  As  for  Worthington,  Lowth, 
(iarnet,  Chappelow,  &c.  I  am  entirelv  silent  on  their 
chapters.  The  paper  I  send  you  is  the  introductory  note 
to  those  mentioned  above.  I  need  not  explain  it  to  you: 
You  will  understand  everv  word.     What  I  want  to  know 


175 

is,  whether  some  parts  of  it  be  not  too  severe.     Whatever 
there  is  of  this  kind  I  shall  gladly  strike  out :  for  though  I 
have  had  provocation  enough,  I  can  assure  you,  I  have 
no    resentment.     I  perhaps  may  not  be  thought   the  bes 
judge  of  my  own  temper  in  this  matter,  and  reasonably. 
But  why  I   say  I  have  so  little  resentment  I  collect  from 
hence,  that  there  is  not  one  word  in  this  volume  against 
them,  which   I  could   not    with   the   greatest  indifference 
strike  out,  either  with  reason  or  without.     I  do  not  expect 
the  world  should  do  me  this  justice,  because  they  are  to 
judge   by   appearances,  and  appearances   are    against  me, 
for  there  are  caustic  strokes  enough  against  the  ignorance 
and  ill  faith  of  my  adversaries.     But  if  this  be  resentment, 
it  is  the  resentment  I  should  shew    against  vice  and  folly 
in  the  case  of  any  other  honest  man.     I  only  say  this  to 
shew  you  how  frankly  you  may  deal  by  me,  without  opposing 
either  my  vanity  or  resentment.     However  I    expect  you 
should  laugh  at  the  concludingtale,  and  if  it  be  not  too  of- 
fensive to   stand,  to  tell  me,  perhaps   Mr.  Balguy  can,  the 
name  of  this  sturdy  beggar  of  the  deep,  I  think  the    sailors 
call  it  the  Fiddler  ^  from  its  motion  in  swimming.     But  I 
am  not  certain  that  I  do  not  confound  two  different  animals. 
Prior-Park^  January  l&th^  1757. 


LETTER  XCIX. 

I  SHOULD  not  have  imagined  you  more  curious  than 
others  about  the  products  of  Bishop  Garnet's  pen  j  for  I 
believe  it  was  the  book  least  read  of  any  that  ever  yet 
appeared  in  4to,  though  it  wanted  nothing  to  bespeak  the 
public  favour  but  being  written  on  a  fine  xvriting  paper > 

*  Naturalists  call  it,  Bernard  the  Hermite.    H. 


176 

This  man,  on  some  frivolous  pretence  or  other,  alters 
the  time  I  assign  to  the  writing  the  book  of  Job  a  little 
later  or  sooner,  I  forget  which,  and  then  takes  the  whole 
system  to  himself.  But  this  alteration  was  made  with 
such  ill  luck,  that  all  my  arguments  for  the  support  of  the 
system  are  evaded,  and  become  useless.  You  who  knew 
nothing  of  thisi  must  needs  think  the  paper  dull  and 
obscure.  But  my  enemies  have  often  misled  me  in  this 
manner:  they  have  cried  up  a  writer  against  me;  and 
when  I  have  begun  to  take  him  to  task,  nobody  had  ever 
heard  of  him.  This  will  deserve  to  be  considered  :  for  I 
hate  to  be  thought  obscure,  the  worst  fault  a  writer  can 
commit  when  he  is  at  liberty  to  speak  plain. 

What  you  hint  at  the  prudent  counsels  of  the  great,  I 
should  have  used  them  before :  it  is  too  late  now  to  be 
solicitous  about  that  matter. 

Quill  verum  atque  deceus  euro  et  ro^o,  ct  omnis  in  hoc  sum. 

Our  worthy  friend  Towne  wrote  me  word  lately,  that 
the  authority  of  such  and  such  late  writers  who  seem  to 
be  against  me  in  certain  points,  and  whose  opinions 
the  writers  against  me  urge,  would  deserve  to  be  abated,  to 
remove  prejudices  ;  and  particularlv  he  was  for  having  me 
examine  a  whole  sermon  of  Clarke's.  I  told  him,  that 
was  right  when  I  first  set  up  for  a  writer :  at  this  time  of 
day  I  had  other  things  to  attend  to.  If  I  have  truth  on  my 
side,  all  prejudices  must  at  length  fall  before  it:  it  was  in- 
different to  me  (though,  as  to  the  general  good,  it  might 
not  be  so)  whether  sooner  or  later.  Therefore  I  should,  I 
thought,  be  better  employed  for  the  future,  in  establishing 
what  I  advance,  than  in  removing  prejudices  to  it — one 
only  prejudice  excepted,  and  that  is  in  favour  of  Infidel 
writers,  whom  I  never  balk  when  they  come  in  my  way. 
Because  this  is  not  a  temporary  prejudice,  but  rose  with 
Christianity,  and  will,  I  suppose,  accompany  it  to  the  last. 


177 

So  it  deserves  a  check.  Perhaps  I  may  have  another  temp- 
tation to  it ;  and  that  is,  the  extreme  ease  in  unravelling 
their  sophistry.  Long  use  has  habituated  me  to  it ;  and  my 
friends  have  flattered  me  that  I  have  something  more  clear 
and  precise  in  this,  than  in  the  other  parts.  However,  in 
rescuing  Revelation  from  their  talons,  I  only  take  those 
occasions  which  afford  me  an  opportunity  of  setting  it  in  a 
right  light,  not  only  from  their  misrepresentations,  but  from 
the  cloudy  systems  of  some  of  its  defenders. 

But  to  return — your  hint  of  the  security  of  dulness  from 
me,  unless  jollied  with  some  symptoms  of  malice — is  oppor- 
tune, and  particularly  kind.  For  to  say  the  truth,  I  can 
complain  of  no  such  in  Garnet,  only  extreme  impertinence 
and  folly;  to  support  anew  kind  of  plagiarism.     I  am,  &c. 

Prior-Park^  January  29th^  1757. 


LETTER  C. 

WE  have  been  here  near  a  week.  My  wife  tells  me 
she  wrote  to  you,  and  I  imagine  we  shall  soon  hear  from 
you  on  that  subject.  As  to  the  subject  of  yours,  I  believe 
I  shall  never  find  you  in  the  wrong:  I  am  sure  I  shall 
never  believe  you  are  so. 

Never  did  public  affairs  wear  a  more  melancholy  aspect. 
The  people  are  devoid  of  principle  ;  the  soldiery,  of  cou- 
rage ;  and but  I  am  no  politician,  except  in  the  pulpit 

on  a    Fast-day,  and  not  always   then  ;  though,  when  the 
hou  se  is  tumbling,  every  man  is  expected  to  carry  a  prop. 

There  is  an  epidemic  madness  amongst  us  to-day  we 
burn  with  the  feverish  heat  of  Superstition  ;  to-morrow  we 
stand  fixed  and  frozen  in  Atheism.  Expect  to  hear  that 
the  churches  are  all  crowded  next  Friday  ;  and  that  on 
Saturday  they  buy    up   Hume's   new   Essays;  the  first  of 


178 

which  (and  please  you)  is  The  natural  History  of  Religion; 
for  which  I  will  trim  the  rogue's  jacket,  at  least  sit  upon  his 
skirts,  as  you  will  see  when  you  come  hither,  and  find  his 
margins  scribbled  over.  In  a  word,  the  Essay  is  to  es- 
tablish an  Atheistic  naturalism,  like  Bolingbroke  ;  and  he 
goes  upon  one  of  Bolingbroke's  capital  arguments,  that 
Idoltary  and  Polytheism  were  before  the  worship  of  the  one 
God.  It  is  full  of  absurdities  :  and  here  I  come  in  with 
him:  for  they  shew  themselves  knaves:  but,  as  you  well 
observe,  to  do  their  business,  is  to  shew  them  fools.  They 
say  this  man  has  several  moral  qualities.  It  may  be  so. 
But  there  are  vices  of  the  mind  as  well  as  body:  and  a 
wickeder  heart,  and  more  determined  to  do  public  mis- 
thief,  I  think,  I  never  knew.  This  Essay  has  so  much 
provoked  me,  that  I  have  a  great  deal  to  say  to  him  occa- 
sionally on  other  accounts. 

I  tell  Garrick  he  grows  wanton,  like  Sir  Epicure  Mam- 
mon, who  would  have  for  his  flatterers  the  purest  of 
Divines ;  so  he  will  deal  with  none  but  Doctors  to  furnish 
out  his  entertainments.  A  Doctor  of  Divinity  ushered  in 
BarbarossB  ;  a  Doctor  of  Laws  has  lately  restored  Am- 
phitryon :  and  as  Dodsley  now  presses  him  to  take  a  Tragedy 
of  his  fashion,  I  advise  him  to  insist  upon  the  Bookseller's 
being  previously  made  Doctor  of  Physic,  at  least,  at  Edin- 
burgh. When  are  we  to  expect  you :  which  in  other  words 
is,  when  will  you  make  us  happy  ? 

Grosvenor-S^uare^  the  Pari  side,  atid 

the  last  door  at  the  South  end,  Febriianj  7fh,   1757. 


179 


LETTER  CI. 

AS  to  Hume,  I  had  laid  it  aside  ever  since  you  was  here. 
I  will  now,  however,  finish  my  skeleton.     It  will  be  hardly 
that.     If  then  you  think   anything  can  be  made  of  it,  and 
will  give  yourself  the  trouble,  we  may  perhaps  between  us 
do  a  little  good,  which  I   dare  say   we  shall   both  think 
worth  a  little  pains.     If  I  have  any  force  in  the   first  rude 
beating  out  of  the  mass,  you  are   best  able  to  give  it  the 
elegance  of  form  and  splendour  of  polish.  This  will  answer 
my  purpose,    to   labour  together  in  a  joint  work   to   do 
a  little  good.     I  will  tell  you  fairly,  it  is  no  more  the  thing 
it  should  be,  and  will  be,  if  you   undertake    it,  than  the 
Dantzick  iron  at  the  forge  is  the  gilt  and  painted  ware  at 
Birmingham.     It  will  make  no  more  than  a  pamphlet ;  but 
you  shall  take  your  own  time,  and  make  it  your  Summer's 
amusement,  if  you   will.     I  propose   it  to  bear  something 
like  the  title,  Remarks  on  Mr.    Hume's  late  Essay ^  called 
the  Natural  History  of  Religion^  by  a  Gentleman  of  Cam- 
bridge^ in  a  Letter  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  W.    I  propose  the   ad- 
dress should  be  with  the  dryness  and  reserve  of  a  stranger, 
who  likes  the  method  of  the  Letters  on  Bolingbroke's  Phi- 
losophy, and   follows    it  here    against   the    same   sort   of 
writer,  inculcating  the  same  impiety,  naturalism,  and  em- 
ploying the  same  kind  of  arguments.     The  address  will  re- 
move it  from  me  :  the  author,  ^Gentleman  of  Cambridge^ 
from  you;  and  the  secrecy  in  printing,  from  us  both= 


180 


I.ETTER  CII. 

Prior-Park,  May  15th,   1757. 

HOW  much  am  I  obliged  to  you  lor  your  kind  inqui- 
ries about  my  health  I  I  am  yet  confined  within  doors, 
but  I  am  on  the  mending  hand.  My  colds,  you  know, 
are  tedious  ;  but  this  has  been  rather  worse  than  ordinary, 
and  occasioned  by  laying  off  a  coat. 

I  have  just  now  from  Bath  got  sight  of  the  Remarks. 
I  augurated  truly  the  improvement  they  would  receive 
this  way.  The  introduction  is  truly  admirable  :  so  is  the 
conclusion.  And  you  have  corrected  throughout  (though 
not  half-quarter  enough)  with  much  judgment  and  dex- 
terity.    But  I  will  say  no  more. 


LETTER   cm. 

I  HAVE  your  kind  letter  of  the  22d.  I  am  so  well 
of  my  late  disorder,  that  I  am  thinking  of  London,  and 
hope  to  be  in  town  this  day  se'nnight. 

How  long  do  you  propose  staying  in  Cambridge  ? 
Whither  do  you  first  direct  your  course  ?  Do  you  think 
it  necessary  to  repeat  your  sea  regimen  this  Summer  ? 
If  you  do,  they  will  expect  you  at  Weymouth,  where 
you  will  meet  with  all  kind  accommodations,  especially 
the  principal,  the  kindest  welcome.  They  go  thither  the 
beginning  of  August,  or  the  middle  of  August,  and  stay 
till  the  latter  end  of  September.  I  shall  stay  in  town  al- 
most all  the  month  of  June,  and  then  go  Northward. 

You  see  nothing  can  escape  the  rage  of  party,  or  the 
rancour  of  corruption.  I  come  in  of  course,  being  as  ne- 
cessary to  every  conatiis  of  dulness,  as  resistance  is  to 
€very  conatus  of  motion. 


181 

I  have  heard  nothing  of  the  copies  of  Oaklej',  or  of 
the  Remarks,  though  Mr.  Allen  has  received  the  copy 
he  subscribed  for.  1  fancy  they  may  be  left  for  me  in  Lon- 
don. So,  that  is  as  well.  Nothing  can  be  more  artful 
than  your  introduction,  more  pleasant,  more  sly,  or  more 
impenetrable.  How  is  your  health  ? — But  I  hope  to  meet 
an  answer  to  all  my  questions  in  Grosvenor-Square.  Till 
then  adieu.     May  he  ever  have  you  in  his  keeping. 

Continue  to  love,  me  and  believe  me  to  be  entirely,  and 
with  the  utmost  affection,  ever  yours. 

W.  WARBURTON. 

Prior- Par k^  May  28t/i,  1757. 


LETTER  CIV. 

I  AM  extremely  pleased  with  your  noble  resolves. 
It  is  but  reasonable  you  should  doze  after  your  effortfi^ 
when  most  authors,  as  well  as  Pope's  heroes,  take  a  li- 
berty with  the  public  of  dozing  before.  You  say  you  in- 
tend to  stay  at  Cambridge  till  the  end  of  August.  Before 
that  I  hope  to  be  returned  from  Durham  to  Prior-Park. 
I  propose  to  begin  residence  there  July  15th.  The  family 
return  from  Weymouth  precisely  at  Michaelmas.  If  you 
and  Mr.  Balguy  will  promise  me  to  come  then  to  Prior- 
Park,  I  will  not  only  meet  you  at  Gloucester,  but  will  take 
you,  as  I  did  once  before,  in  my  way  down ;  which  will 
be  about  the  end  of  this  month.  But  this  only  on  the  con- 
dition aforesaid.  The  Pagan  Hume  is  come  to  hand ; 
but  not  the  Saracen  Oakley. 

Never  more  do  you,  or  our  friend  of  St.  John's,  trouble 
your  heads  in  improving  the  maker  of  Athelstan  :  teach 
him,  if  you  can,  to  write  worse ;  and  he  may  become 
as  popular  an  author,  as  he  who  writ  upon  tomb-stones, 
and  the  starry  heavens,  I  forget  his  name. 


182 

You  say  jour  fine  Judges  are  at  a  loss  concerning  the 
l^emarks.  You  have  confirmed  me  in  my  opinion  of  their 
wonderful  discernment.  I  commended  the  art  of  your 
introduction.  I  should  have  said  the  boldness  :  or,  to 
speak  juster  still,  the  art  which  consisted  in  the  boldness. 
In  full  and  certain  confidence  of  the  public's  being  more 
than  moon-blind,  you  gave  them  a  key  to  the  secret ;  and 
almost  taught  them  how  to  turn  it.  And  this  it  seems 
but  the  more  confounded  your  fine  judges.  In  short,  the 
present  race  of  readers,  which,  like  the  race  of  capons, 
is  not  Nature's  making,  cannot  be  used  with  too  much 
contempt,  considered  either  on  the  side  of  judgment  or 
morals.  One  half  of  them  have  not  respect  enough  for 
Religion,  to  give  attention  to  the  defenders  of  it,  and  the 
other  half  have  not  zeal  enough  for  Infidelity,  to  read  those 
who  attempt  to  support  them  in  their  follies.  In  their 
rage  to  snatch  the  present  moment,  and  the  present  penny, 
they  are  ready  to  renounce  God,  and  sacrifice  their  countr)\ 

The  public,  perhaps  at  the  moment  I  write  this,  is  at 
the  crisis  of  its  fate.  But  I  say  no  more.  For  at  the 
Post-Office,  it  is  said,  they  use  a  liberty  without  license 
(just  the  contrary  of  what  is  done  every  where  else,  where 
they  use  license  without  liberty)  to  open  people's  letters. 
And  though  my  politics  with  you  would  be  little  more 
than  a  panegyric  on  his  Grace  your  Chancellor,  yet  the 
rogues,  the  letter-openers  aforesaid,  would  sink  all  that, 
and  innuendo  me  into  some  disaffection  against  the  govern- 
ment of  his  Vice-Chancellors.  One  thing  I  should  be 
sorry  to  put  them  to  the  trouble  of  breaking  wax  to  come 
at,  being  always  ready  to  send  it  unsealed;  and  that 
is,  that   I  am,  &c. 

Gros'oenor- Square^  June  8th,  1757. 


183 


LETTER  CV. 

YOUR  improvement  on  what  I  say  of  Taylor,  is  ad= 
mirable.  It  shall  be  mended  accordingly.  If  you  would 
have  me  a  better  writer,  you  must  be  more  frequent  in 
your  corrections. 

I  believe  what  you  hear  of  the  public  is  true,  and  the 
share  our  Noble  Friend  had  in  it.  But  more  of  this 
when  I  see  you,  which  I  hope  will  be  next  Tuesday 
se*nnight.  But  you  shall  hear  from  me  again  before  that 
time,  so  shall  Mr.  Balguy.  Be  assured,  that  of  the  few 
things  I  now  think  worthy  my  care  or  concern,  the  preser- 
vation of  your  friendship  is  not  the  last  j  being,  with  the 
warmest  affection,  &c. 

Grosvenor-Square^  June  \7th^  1757. 


LETTER  CVI. 

IF  Tuesday  the  28th  instant  be  convenient  for  you,  I 
propose  to  call  at  your  gate  in  the  evening,  and  next  day 
after  dinner  I  must  set  forward  for  the  North.  You  will 
let  me  know  if  this  suits  you.  You  know  too  I  am  a 
slender  supper  man.  I  can  say  with  old  Cato — habeo 
senectuti  magnam  grat'iam^  quce  mihi  sermonis  aviditatem 
auxit^  potionis  et  cibi  sustiilk. 

I  forgot  to  thank  you  for  that  material  instance  of  simi* 
lar  customs  ;  it  is  much  to  the  purpose. 

You  remember  the  story  of  Gil  Bias  and  the  Prelate. 
I  shall  expect  that  you  will  not  be  less  friendly  than  that 
honest  Monitor  of  his  Grace.  Besides,  curiosity  alone 
should  incline  you  to  make  the  experiment  whether  I  be 
as  great  a  fool  as  the  Archl)ishop. 


184 

1  doubt  you  won't  have  one  volume  of  Horace  ready 
for  me  by  that  time  I  come. 

Honest  Towne  is  pleased  with  the  Remarks,  and  says, 
that  though  you  undertake  in  a  discourse  to  Mr.  Mason 
to  distinguish  imitations  from  originals,  you  will  be 
puzzled  here,  though  he  thinks  few  things  too  hard  for 
you.  Does  he  smoke  any  thing  from  any  thing  you  have 
said  to  him? 

Grosvenor-Square,  June  20th,  1757. 


LETTER  CVTI. 

Durham,  July  12th,  1757. 
I  AM  now  got  (through  much  hot  weather  and  fatigue) 
to  this  place.  I  hurried  from  the  heat  of  London  at  a 
time,  and  under  such  circumstances,  when  a  true  Court 
Chaplain  would  never  have  forgiven  himself  the  folly  of 
preferring  the  company  of  his  friends  and  relations,  to 
attendance  on  the  Minister.  But  every  one  to  his  taste. 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  finding  you  well  at  Cambridge  ;  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  finding  a  Sister  and  a  Niece  well  at 
Broughton  ;  with  whom  I  spent  a  few  days  with  much 
satisfaction  :  for  you  must  know  I  have  a  numerous  family, 
perhaps  the  more  endeared  to  me  by  their  sole  dependence 
on  me.  It  pleased  Providence  that  two  of  my  sisters 
should  marry  unhappily,  and  that  a  third,  on  the  point  of 
venturing,  should  escape  the  hazard,  and  so  engage  m\' 
care  only  for  herself. — I  reckon  this  a  lucky  year  ;  for  I 
have  married  a  Niece  to  a  reputable  Grocer  at  York,  and 
have  got  a  Commission  for  a  Nephew  in  the  Regiment  oi 
Artillery  :  and  this  fierce  Man  of  War  lies  at  present  en 
camped,  much  at  my  expense,  at  Amersham,  near  High 
AVvcombe,  (as  he  yiot'ifics  me,)  with  two  field-pieces  under 


185 

his  command.  These  are  pleasures,  but  less  than  what 
I  enjoy  m  the  superior  merit  and  afTection  of  a  friend  like 
you. — But  no  more  of  that. — How  proceed  your  excel- 
lent works  under  the  pen  and  the  press. 

Let  me  know  you  are  well,  and  believe  me  to  be, 
My  dearest  friend, 

Ever  most  aiTectionately  and 

entirely  yours, 

W.  WARBURTON. 

P.  S.     I  Intend  to  write  to  our  friend  at  Sheffield  bv  the 
next  post,  to  see  If  I  can  draw  him  hither. 


LETTER  CVIIL 

ONE  of  your  Fellows,  a  friend  of  yours,  did  me  the 
favour  to  call  upon  me  in  his  way  to  Scotland,  to  acquaint 
me  with  your  health.  So  you  may  suppose  him  very 
welcome.  He  would  not  let  me  shew  it  in  the  manner  I 
would,  for  he  very  wisely  chose  the  Bishop's  table  before 
mine.  However,  he  came  to  breakfast  with  me  the  next 
day,  and  I  found  him  an  amiable  and  worthy  person  ;  and 
his  professions  of  regard  and  esteem  for  you  made  him 
very  acceptable  to  me. 

Our  friends  Mason  and  Brov.-ne  could  not  agree  to 
come  here  in  time  ;  so  they  agreed  not  to  come  at  all.  I 
suppose  the  Commentary  is  done  by  this.  Pray  send  one 
for  me  to  Leake  ;  but  it  will  spoil  it  to  bind  it. 

I  have  done  feasting,  and  leave  this  place  to-morrow. 
This  luxury  is  not  only  opprobrious  to  us,  but  hurtful  to 
the  place,  as  only  making  a  number  of  idle  !}eggars.  B} 
that  I  spend,  I  reckon  there  is  spent  yearly  by  the  Chap- 

A  ft 


186 

ter  at  least  1,000/.  a  year  in  this  unedifying  way  ;  a  sum 
suff.clent  to  erect  and  endow  a  Hospital  for  the  sick. 
I  have  proposed  to  employ  it  that  way.  I  don't  meet 
with  one  but  who  singly  says  yes  :  and  yet  I  don't  believe 
I  could  get  one  to  second  me  in  Chapter.  However,  I 
shall  try  at  the  next  General  Chapter. 

I  was  at  some  pains  to  get  the  dates  of  the   two  promo- 
lions  you   mentioned;   and   now,  looking   for  the  paper  in 
which  the)'  were  put  down,  I  have  lost  it. 
Adieu,  my  dearest  friend,  &c. 

Durham^  Aug-iist  9tli^   1757. 

P.  S,  You  remember  your   appointment   at    Prior-Park. 
I  have  wrote  about  it  to  Mr.  Balguy. 


LETTER  CIX, 

1  THOUGHT  it  would  not  be  indifFerent  to  you  to 
know  that  I  am  got  well  home. 

I  came  through  Birmingham  ;  and  there  I  met  with  a 
person  whose  sight  and  good  health  gave  me  great  plea- 
sure.— In  coming  cross  the  country,  I  saved  80  miles, 
•and  came  about  300  in  four  days  and  a  half.  Remember 
Horace. 

They  speak  at  Uurliam  of  the  Waters  of  Harrowgate, 
as  mighty   in  their  powers   in   scorbutic  cases.     Inquire 
into  this.     If  so,  next  Summer  I  can   carry   you  into  the 
neighbouriiood  of  them,  and  back  again. 
Prior- Park^  Atn'-usf  \5th,  17 'i7. 


187 


LETTER    ex. 

IT  was  indeed  Mrs.  Hurd  that  I  was  so  happy  to  see  at 
Birmingham.  You  must  give  me  leave  to  be  a  sharer 
with  you  in  your  tenderness  to  her.  But  ii  was  by  great 
accident  I  had  thfs  pleasure,  and.  not  till  after  two  or 
three  blundering  messages  of  my  servant.  For  as  soon 
as  I  came  into  town,  I  sent  to  your  brother  ;  but  there 
being  two  of  the  name,  I  wanted  to  be  certain  I  was  right, 
so  sent  again  and  again.  All  this  time,  I  had  not  the 
least  conception  that  Mrs.  Hurd  lived  in  Birminghan;. 
But  she  having  the  goodness  to^  speak  to  my  man,  as  soon 
as  she  knew  from  whom  he  came,  I  got,  at  last,  to  thf^ 
knowledge  of  her  being  with  her  son  :  and  as  soon  as  I 
did,  I  went  to  wait  on  her.  Every  word  she  spoke  shewed 
the  goodness  of  her  heart  ;  and  her  sentiments  would  have 
become  a  Dutchess,  or,  to  speak  more  properly,  a  Saint. 
Mentioning  you  in  the  manner  I  thought  fit ;  she  said,  that 
if  you  did  your  duty,  and  was  of  honour  to  your  profes- 
sion, it  was  the  greatest  pleasure  she  could  possibly  have 
in  hearing  of  you.  In  short,  all  her  notions  were  gene- 
rous, aifectionate,  and  pious  ;  and  you  are  worthy  of  one 
another. 

I  conceive  not  the  least  reason  why  you  should  resolve 
not  to  send  Lord  Mansfield  the  whole  new  Edition.  But, 
if  you  do  resolve  on  that,  yo^i  should  by  no  means  omit 
the  separate  Pamphlet. 

I  congratulate  you  on  your  having  got  it  out  of  }  our 
hands,  and  shall  receive  the  small  paper  with  much  pleasure. 

I  am  glad  I  shall  see  the  Dialogues  so  soon.  Mr.  Bal- 
guy  made  the  same  objection  you  do  to  the  time  of  coming, 
on  account  of  my  waiting:  but  I  told  him,  as  I  do  you, 
it  is  nothing.  I  shall  leave  you  both  in  the  midst  of  your 
friends.     Besides,  if  the   vacancies  be  filled   up,  as  you 


188 

tell  me  they  are,  I  shall  have  it  in  my  power  to  choose 
the  tv.-o  last  weeks  in  October ;  for  Mr.  Wright  has  pro- 
mised to  tnke  the  two  first,  and  if  Medlicot  does  not 
wait  with  him,  the  junior  of  the  month  must. 

Adieu.   God  keep  you  in  health  and  spirits  till  I  see  you. 

Prior-Park,  August  22^,  1757. 


LETTER  CXI. 

Mr.   HURD  to  Dr.  WARBURTON. 

Cambridge,  August  27th,  1757. 

I  WRITE  one  line,  before  I  set  out,  to  tell  you  how 
tenderly  afTected  I  am  by  your  goodness  to  my  poor  Mo- 
ther. The  honour  of  such  a  visit  was  best  acknowledged 
by  the  languiige  of  the  heart.  And  this,  I  am  peirsnaded, 
would  not  be  wanting,  however  she  might  be  unable  to 
express  her  sense  of  it  in  any  other  manner.  Nothing, 
I  know,  can  exceed  her  gratitude  for  your  constant  favom-s 
to  me.  And  if  they  m.ake  me  happy  on  other  accounts, 
think  how  they  rejoice  me  when  I  see  them  contribute, 
as  they  do,  to  make  her  happy,  who  is  so  dear  to  me. 

I  must  have  more  than  the  bias  of  filial  piety  in  my 
mind  to  be  mistaken  in  thinking  she  is  all  you  so  kindly 
conceive  of  her.  My  poor  Father  was  just  such  another. 
'J'he  same  simplicity  of  mind,  and  goodness  of  heart, 
with  an  understanding  that  dignified  both.  In  a  word, 
my  dear  Sir,  (for  though  I  spoke  of  writing  but  one  line, 
I  could  fill  my  paper  on  this  subject,)  it  has  pleased  Hea- 
ven to  bestow  upon  me  two  of  its  choisest  blessings,  the 
best  of  parents  and  the  best  of  friends.  While  I  live, 
I  must  retain  the  warmest  sense  of  such  mercies,  and., 
of  course,  be  more  than  I  can  express,  &c. 


189 
LETTER  CXII. 

GOOD  Mrs.  Kurd  makes  me  happy  in  accepting  so 
kindly  my  desire  of  letting  her  know  how  much  I  honour 
her  ;  and  share  with  you  in  a  parental  regard  for  her. 

I  wish  I  was  with  you  at  your  brother's  farm,  both  for 
the  sake  of  that,  and  the  master  of  it.  I  have  heard 
enough  of  him  to  be  well  assured,  that  his  is  the  true 
ferme  ornee^  so  much  now  in  taste  amongst  the  great  ;  and 
which  so  much,  by  the  affected  shew  of  simplicity,  ex- 
poses thafastus  of  their  worthless  owners. 

I  have  received  your  new  Edition. — Your  additional 
notes,  and  new  pieces  are  admirable.  But  hark  you  ! 
as  the  Letter  on  Imitation  is  printed  separately  for  the 
old  buyers,  how  happens  it  that  the  additional  notes  are 
not  added  to  the  same  purpose  ? 

Pray,  v/hen  you  pay  your  visit  to  Sir  Edward  and  mv 
Lady,  make  my  best  compliments  to  them.  Tell  mv 
Lady  she  did  great  honour  to  her  own  taste  in  cultivating 
her  acquaintance  with  Miss  Sutton,  to  whom  she  did 
equal  pleasure.  She  told  me  she  had  the  honour  of  a 
visit  from  her  Ladyship  soon  after  we  left  town  ;  and  she 
thinks  herself  indebted  to  me  for  so  valuable  an  acquaint- 
ance. But  I  don't  remem.ber  that  I  ever  told  Lady  Lit- 
tleton that  Miss  Sutton  was  one  of  the  most  accomplished 
(as  well  as,  what  is  not  worth  a  straw,  one  of  the  most 
fashionable)  young  women  of  this  age.  Besides  a  very 
solid  and  most  excellent  understanding,  improved  by  the 
best  reading  in  English,  French,  Spanish,  and  Italian, 
she  is  of  the  most  amiable  temper,  of  boundless  good- 
ness, and  sober  and  unaffected  piety.     Such   is  the  per- 


19Ci 

son  whom  Lady  Littleton's  ^ood  sense  led  her  to   make 
choice  of  for  an  acquaintance. 

To  contribute  a  little  to  your  amusement,  I  have  sent 
you  a  leaf  or  two  (which  you  must  take  care  of)  of  the 
new  edition  of  Pope,  which  will  be  published  next  month. 
It  is  on  a  ridiculous  subject,  well  worth  ridiculing,  but 
lies  out  of  the  way  of  all  but  schouirs  ;  and  therefore  un- 
fit for  such  fashionable  Papers  as  The  Worlds  &c.  But  you 
will  know  how  to  laugh  at  it.  The  iamily  are  all  well, 
and  yet  at  Weymouth.  Pray  make  my  best  respects 
to  good  Mrs.  Ilurd,  and  your  Brother,  whom  I  want  to 
know  better  (though  I  cannot  more  advantageously)  than 
by  hearsay. 

P.  S,  Pray  when  you  see  our  friend,  tell  him  that  poor 
Grist,  the  Politician,  is  just  dead;  and  that  the  last 
question  he  asked  was — Is  the  fleet  ijet  sailed? — Mr. 
Allen  will  have  a  greadoss,  not  in  his  Apothecary,  but 
in  that  best  physic  he  was  perpetually  administering 
to  him,  mirth  and  laughter.  We  have  just  lost  too, 
in  the  same  line,  a  more  philosophic  visionary,  Hart- 
ley ;  a  martyr  to  Mrs.  Stephens's  Medicine.  One  of 
his  kidnies  was  wasted  away,  the  other  full  of  stones, 
branching  quite  through  it,  like  coraline  ramifications, 
and  a  stone  in  his  bladder  as  big  as  a  pullet's  egg;  in 
lis  accrescent  state y  to  use  the  language  of  the  solemn 
Dr.  Davis. 
Prior-Park^  September  12th,  1757. 


191 


LETTER  CXIII. 

lFey}7iouth,  September  19th.,  1757. 
LAST  Friday  I  came  to  this  place  with  a  purpose  to 
stay  a  week  with  them.  The  next  day  an  express  came 
to  me  from  Bath,  acquainting  me  with  the  death  of  the 
Dean  of  Bristol.  You  know,  I  had  a  kind  of  promise 
of  it  some  time  ago  from  the  Duke  of  Newcastle.  What 
alterations  some  late  transactions,  or  rather  what  revolu- 
tions they  have  made  in  his  Grace's  promissory  systefti,  I 
can't  tell.  But  I  am  very  indifferent  of  obligations  from 
that  quarter;  so  I  stay  here  with  much  tranquillity  and 
unconcern,  instead  of  posting  to  his  levee.  But  this  is 
not  properly  the  subject  of  my  Letter,  though  I  make  it 
a  part  of  it,  as  knowing  the  chance  I  have  in  the  next 
turn  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Lottery  ;  which,  for  a  Deanery, 
will  give  you  vastly  more  pleasure  than  it  gives  me. 

The  occasion  of  my  writing  is  this  :  Mr.  Allen  is  enga- 
ged till  the  end  of  next  month,  and  therefore  desires  that 
the  pleasure  of  your  and  Mr.  Baiguy's  company  may  be 
deferred  till  then.  I  told  him  that  I  was  much  afraid 
whether  this  would  be  Mr.  Baiguy's  convenience,  though 
I  took  it  for  granted  that  it  would  not  much  incommode 
you,  since  your  residence  at  Cambridge,  as  Fellow,  was 
at  an  end.  He  was  much  concerned  to  hear  this  of  Mr. 
Balguy  ;  but,  as  you  are  circumstanced,  he  hopes  you  will 
think  of  no  excuse,  and  so  hope  I :  and  will  come  to  you 
from  London  to  Prior-Park,  before  you  leave  it.  But 
try  if  this  can  be  made  convenient  for  Mr.  Balguy  too. 
Nothing  but  indispensable  business  deprives  Mr.  Allen  of 
the  company  of  his  friends  (those  I  mean  he  most  values) 
at  any  time. 

Browne   is  here  ;   I  think   rather   perter  than  ordinary, 
but  no  wiser.     You  cannot  imagine  the  tenderness  thev  all 


192 

have  oihis  tender  places  :  and  with  how  unfeeling  a  hand  I 
probe  them.  It  seems  he  said  something  to  them  of 
another  Estimate,  My  wife  told  him,  he  must  take  care 
of  carrying  the  joke  too  far.  To  me  he  has  mentioned 
nothing  of  it,  nor  have  I  given  him  an  opportunity. 

Wheresoever  I  am,  you  may  write  under  cover  to  Mr. 
Allen,  at  Prior-Park,  and  write  your  name,  or  the  first 
letters  of  it,  on  the  superscription  to  me,  that  Mr.  Allen 
mav  open  it,  if  I  should  be  gone  to  London. 


LETTER  CXIV. 

I  HAVE  both  your  Letters.  .  I  am  just  going  to  town. 
All  the    Chaplains  of  my  month  are   either  dead  or  sick. 

I  am  glad  November  and  Christmas  will  suit  well  for 
each  of  you.  If  you  call  of  me  in  your  way,  at  London, 
I  fancy  I  shall  be  able  to  go  down  with  you  to  Prior-Park, 
and  Mr.  Balguy  will  follow  us.  I  think  this  will  be  a 
better  scheme  than  the  other,  since  I  shall  be  with  you  at 
Prior-Park.  But  when  you  get  to  Cambridge,  you  will 
write  to  me. 

I  have  just  received  an  account  that  Mr.  Pitt  has  asked 
the  Deanery  of  Bristol  of  the  King  for  me,  who  has 
graciously  nominated  me  to  it.  But  more  of  this  matter 
hereafter. 

You  mistake  the  use  of  those  leaves  I  sent  you  ;  they 
belong  to  my  copy  of  the  new  edition,  not  to  yours, 
which  I  shall  send  you.  Pray  tell  Mr.  Balguy  I  am 
much  obliged  to  him  for  the  notice  about  Mr.  Wright. 
I  received  the  same  from  Mr.  Mason  ;  but  his  letter  was 
so  obscure  that  I  could  only  guess  that  Lowth,  and  not 
he,  is  for  the  month  of  October. 

Prior- Park^  September  28f/i^   1757. 


193 


LETTER  CXV. 

Grosvenor-Square^  October  15th,  1757. 

I  HAVE  only  time  to  write  two  words.  Dr.  Foster 
lies  dangerously  ill,  and  Mr.  Yorke  was  with  me  this 
morning,  and,  of  his  own  mere  motion,  told  me  he  in- 
tended to  write  to  the  Master  of  the  Rolls  to  recommend 
you  in  case  of  a  vacancy.  He  does  not  know  the  force 
of  his  interest,  but  that  he  shall  push  it  in  the  warmest 
manner.  Let  the  event  of  Foster's  illness  be  what  it  will, 
it  will  be  proper  for  you  to  return  your  thanks  to  Mr. 
Yorke. 

Where  are  the  Dialogues  you  promised  me  ?  I  am  glad 
you  are  got  well  and  in  health  out  of  the  North-West. 
But  you  don't  tell  me  how  you  left  Mrs.  Hurd. 

I  hope  we  may  contrive  to  go  down  to  Prior-Park  to- 
gether. In  haste,  that  is,  the  post  is  in  haste.  Ever 
most  affectionately  yours, 

W.  WARBURTON. 

P.  S.  Mr.    Yorke  told  me  he  had  been  applied  to  on  this 

occasion  by  a  man  of  worth,  and  an  acquaintance  ; 

but  he   preferred  you  to  any  other  to   employ    his 

interest  in  favour  of,  as  you  would    do  him  most 

honour. 

I  have  my  Lord  Mansfield's  compliments  to  make 

you  for  the  Letter  to  Mr.  Mason.     He  wants  to  see 

you  at  his  house. — Pra}'  send  the  leaves  about  Lite-. 

rary   Murders.      You   may    direct  the  letter,  under 

cover,    to   Christopher    Robinson,    Esquire,    at  tlie 

General  Post-office. 

B  b 


194 


LETTER  CXVI. 

Grosve7ior-Sguare^  November  2dy  1757. 

YOU  have  seen  by  the  papers  the  disposition  of  the 
preachership  to  Dr.  Ross.  So  many  reports  had  gone 
a!)out  this  matter  here,  that  I  did  not  know  what  to  make 
of  it  till  I  had  seen  IMr.  Yorke,  which  was  not  till  this 
day,  by  reason  of  my  attendance  at  Kensington. 

To-day  I  dined  with  him.  And  I  have  the  pleasure  to 
assure  you  (and  I  knov/  it  is  the  greatest  that  this  affair 
could  give  you)  that  Mr.  Yorke  acted  with  all  the  warmth 
and  sincerity  that  I  myself  could  do.  He  shewed  me  the 
copy  of  the  letter  he  writ  to  the  Master  of  the  Rolls,  and 
told  me  the  substance  of  the  conversation  that  passed  be- 
tween them,  both  of  which  was  what  I  could  have  wished. 
On  the  whole,  he  found  the  case  (from  the  Master's  ac- 
count) to  stand  thus.  When,  on  the  vacancy  before, 
Clark  gave  ihe  preachership  to  the  Hardwicke  solicitation, 
he  gave  every  thing  but  an  absolute  promise  to  the  Duke  for 
the  next  vacancy.  Our  friend  reminded  him  of  his  Fa- 
ther's conduct,  who  always  refused  to  provide  for  the 
Minister's  friends.  He  observed  to  the  Master,  that  this 
was  all  he  had  to  give.  In  fine,  the  Master  told  him  he 
had  but  one  way  to  deny  the  Duke's  solicitation,  which 
was  by  giving  it  to  Mr.  James  Yorke  ;  and  that  he  woidd 
know  his  mind  upon  it.  Mr.  Yorke  said  he  should  cer- 
tainly diiisuade  his  Brother  from  accepting  it.  According- 
ly he  did  write  to  Mr.  James,  and  desired  he  would  not 
think  of  accepting  it,  for  that  he  was  soliciting  it  for  an- 
other, and  should  be  dishonoured  by  it.  He  told  me  he 
had  another  reason  for  this  :  he  perceived  that  the  Master 
had  a  mind  to  put  the  change  upon  him,  by  this  offer  to 
the  I^rothcr.  In  a  word,  INIr.  Yorke  has  done  all  that 
his  friendship  to  us  required.     And  this  makes  me  easy. 


195 

Adieu,  my  dearest  friend ! — I  hope  in  my  next  to  fwt 
the  time  to  you  of  my  leaving  town,  that  you  may  come 
up  to  me  at  your  leisure.  In  the  mean  time,  will  you  be 
so  kind  to  get  me  a  Doctor's  hood  made,  to  bring  up 
with  you  ?  I  would  have  the  cloth  very  fine  and  light, 
and  lined  with  a  very  good  deep  rose-coloured  lutestring. 
I  send  to  Cambridge  for  it,  just  as  a  fine  gentleman  sends 
to  Paris  for  his  garniture. 


LETTER  CXVII. 

TO  shew  what  little  value  I  set  upon  a  hood,  I  will 
purchase  as  it  were  siibfurcd^  or  under  the  gallows,  this 
outward  man  of  a  regenerated  Bishop  ;  the  imvard^  I 
would  not  give  half  forty  shillings  for.  The  tayior  is  a 
right  reverend  personage,  and  I  would  depend  upon  his 
determinatio?!  sooner  than  any  that  has  been  given  in  the 
schools  these  fifty  years.  However,  I  am  not  so  ena- 
moured of  these  gaudy  spoils  of  your  hero,  but  that  if  you 
or  even  the  tayior  should,  on  second  thoughts,  think  it  as 
well  to  have  a  new  one,  I  can  readily  forego  this  unex- 
pected honour. 

I  waited  till  Mr.  Balguy  came  back,  (who,  by  the  way, 
gave  me  great  pleasure  both  by  his  person  and  his  news, 
though  I  was  too  much  in  a  hurry  when  I  wrote  last,  to 
think  of  either,)  I  waited,  I  say,  till  he  came  back,  to 
thank  you  for  your  last.  You  are  an  extraordinary  man, 
and  will  make  one  admire  and  love  you,  whether  we  will 
or  no.  It  was  well  for  me  that  I  had  so  good  a  disposi- 
tion to  do  both,  or  this  force  upon  us  might  have  raised  a' 
very  uneasy  passion  in  mine,  as  I  dare  say  it  has  done  in 
the  breasts  of  many,  and  will,  if  you  live,  in  many  more, 
I  mean  envy.     Mr.  Allen  finds  in  you  what  he  imagined 


196 

(till  he  experienced  the  contrary)  was  in  all  Divines,  be- 
cause it  ought  to  be  there  :  and  he  tells  me  in  a  letter  I 
received  to-day  from  him,  that  he  is  not  at  all  surprised  at 
you,  lor  what  would  surprise  the  two  Universities,  and 
the   bench  of  Bishops  to  boot. 

Your  letter  to  Mr.  Yorke  was  extremely  proper.  For 
I  must  repeat  it  again,  I  think  he  acted  with  warmth  and 
truth. — Mr.  Balgu}',  according  to  his  proposed  route,  will 
he  back  here  to-morrow  night.  He  returns  to  you  on 
Thursday.  By  that  time,  I  hope,  I  shall  be  able  to  fix 
the  day  of  my  leaving  town.  I  must  preach  a  couple  of 
Sundays  at  Lincoln's  Inn.  I  am  now  confined  under  a 
course  of  physic.  Six  weeks  ago  I  was  bleeded  for  a 
dizEiness.  It  has  hung  upon  me  more  or  less  ever  since  ; 
and  I  have  been  bled  again.  I  dare  say  you  smile,  and 
think  with  yourself,  that  if  all  the  puppies  who  get 
preferment  did  but  undergo  the  same  discipline,  they  would 
be  much  less  offensive  to  society  than  they  are.  My 
blood  is  bad.  But  what  of  that,  if  the  heart  but  continue 
right  ?  It  is  placed  in  the  little  world  just  as  its  master  is 
in  the  large.  It  must  receive  what  comes  :  sometime^ 
mend  what  it  receives  ;  oftener  not. 

Grosvenor-iSquare^  November  7th^  1757. 


LETTER  CXVIIL 

I  HAVE  yours  of  the  26th  past.  You  never  tell  me 
■\  our  sentiments  but  you  give  me  a  fresh  occasion  to  love 
and  admire  you.  I  find  you  was  no  more  born  for  servi- 
'tude  than  myself  :  and  since  things  have  taken  this  turn, 
I  will  promise  never  to  propose  such  kind  of  prospects 
arjain,  which  when  most  successful  never  pay  the  expense 
to  such  a  mind  as  yours.  I  am  now  convinced  the  preach- 
crship   of  the  Rolls   would  have  made  yon  unhappy  ;  and 


.197 

a  watch-tower  at  Lambeth,  under  such  a  Governor  of  the 
citadel  as  we  arc  likely  to  have,  was  making  a  forlorn-hope 
of  you,  without  being  in  the  post  of  honour. 

"  Let  lands  and  houses  have  what  Lords  they  will, 
"  Let  us  be  fix'd  and  our  own  masters  still," 

says  Master  Pope,  who  would  have  blessed  himself  to 
have  known  such  a  divine. 

I  am  more  and  more  resolved  to  speak  my  mind  in  the 
Dedication.*  I  have  given  the  thing  many  strokes  of 
heightening,  many  of  softening,  up  and  down,  as  best 
served  my  purpose  of  being  home  and  decent.  I  have  con- 
trived too,  by  a 'stroke  in  the  beginning,  to  shew  myself 
an  alien  to  parties,  and  attached  only  to  two  or  three  su- 
perior men^  in  whose  friendship,  I  place  my  civil  glory. 

I  received  a  very  obliging  letter  from  Mr.  Nevile,  in 
answer  to  one  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  his  book.  I 
will  not  trouble  him  with  my  thanks  ;  but  leave  it  to  you 
to  assure  him  of  my  sincere  thoughts  of  his  performance, 
ttnd  of  my  constant  esteem  and  affection.  If  it  was  in 
my  power  to  make  him  Master  of  Jesus,  I  would  offer 
him  my  friendship  too  ;  for  this  being  the  polite  term 
which  the  honester  part  of  the  great  use,  when  they  mean 
favours,  it  would  be  worth  offering,  As  it  is,  it  is  of  no 
worth  but  to  such  disinterested  men  as  you. 

I  am  ashamed  of  not  acknowledging  our  friend  Mr. 
Balguy's  kind  letter,  which  I  received  from  him  in  London; 
pray  make  my  best  excuses  for  it.  I  am  now  so  ill  of  a 
cold  that  I  don't  go  down  to  dinner  ;  they  are  now  at  it ; 
and  I  keep  my  room  with  such  low  spirits  that  it  will 
be  charity  to  write  to  me  ;  for  I  hope  yours  is  grown 
better. 

Prior-Park,  April  2d,  1758. 

*  To  Lord  Mansfield.    U- 


198 


LETTER  CXIX. 

My  dear  Mr.  Hurd, 
YOU  know  there  is  to  the  first  volume  of  the  Divine 
Legation  in  the  last  edition,  the  Preface  reprinted  to  the 
first  edition.  I  have  thoughts  of  doing  the  same  thing  to 
the  second  volume  now  coming  out,  that  is,  giving  what 
I  call  the  Preface  to  the  first  edition  of  it.  I  have  in- 
closed it,  as  I  would  have  it  appear.  Pray  communicate 
it  to  Mr.  Balguy:  if  you  approve  of  the  project,  pray 
send  it  back  by  the  return  of  the  post :  if  you  do  not,  it 
shall  not  be  printed. 

Ever  entirely  yours, 

W.  WARBURTON. 
Prior-Park^  April  10th. 


LETTER  CXX. 

Weymouth^  September  Zd^  1758. 
1  RECEIVED  yours  of  the  19th  at  this  place  ;  where  I 
came  last  week  for  a  fortnight's  retirement :  but  the  Cher- 
bourg expeditioners  being  twice  drove  in  hither  by  contrary 
winds,  Mr.  Allen's  hospitality  has  made  this  house  an 
Inn  for  Generals  and  Colonels  ever  since  I  came.  Some- 
times I  dine  with  them,  and  sometimes  I  do  not ;  just  as 
my  disgust  to  the  Barbarians  rises  or  abates.  The  hours 
so  disagreeably  lost  are  regretted  when  they  are  gone  : 
and  not,  like  yours,  lost  without  regret;  for  that  I  take  to 
be  the  meaning  of  your 


■lose  and  neglect  the  creeping  hours  of  time 


199 

You  think  so  justly  and  generously  of  the  foolish  Esti- 
mator and  his  mean  rascally  rijkilers,  that  I  shall  tell  him 
what  you  say. 

I  am  glad  you  have  done  the  discourse  on  Chivalry ;  for  this 
looks  as  if  you  was  got  forward  with  the  Dialogues.  Pray  let 
Mr.  Nevileknovv  how  much  I  am  pleased  with  his  approba- 
tion.    We  all  rejoice  in  your  promise  of  a  winter's  visit. 

Louisbourg  is  an  important  conquest ;  it  will  strength- 
en Mr.  Pitt,  and  enable  him  to  struggle  more  success- 
fully against  corruption. 

If  you  was  here,  you  would  see  how  I  have  scribbled 
over  the  margins  of  Tindal's  "  Christianity  as  old  as  the 
*'  Creation."  1  think  I  have  him  as  sure  as  I  had  Collins  : 
that  is,  overturn  the  pillars  of  this  famous  edifice  of  im- 
piety :  which  all  the  writers  against  him  hitherto  have  left 
standing;  busying  themselves  only  to  untile  his  roof.  This, 
is  my  present  amusement  for  a  fortnight  at  Weymoutli- 
I  shall  return  in  three  or  four  days ;  I  think  this  place 
does  not  agree  with  my  health.  I  am  greatly  oppressed 
with  drowsiness  every  afternoon,  which  I  ascribe  to  the 
sea  air,  or  to  Tindal.  Let  it  be  which  it  will,  it  is  time 
for  me  to  leave  them  both.  The  family  v/ill  follow  in  ten 
days  or  a  fortnight.  Your  friend  is  extremely  recovered 
by  sea- water  and  sea-bathing.  The  boy  is  in  great  spirits. 
His  amusements  here,  these  two  last  Summers,  have  been 
very  elegant,  in  music  and  painting.  Lastyear  he  was  ena- 
moured of  Dr.  Browne's  fiddle-stick  ;  at  present  he  is  equalh' 
taken  with  Mr.  Hoare's  pencil  j  who  is  here,  to  draw  a 
picture  of  Mr.  Allen  for  the  Exeter  Hospital,  to  which  he 
has  been  a  benefactor  of  some  land  and  houses. 

Next  month  I  go  to  London.  But  I  sliall  not  live  to 
my  satisfaction  till  I  see  yon  at  Prior-Park  en  my  return 
thither. 


200 


LETTER  CXXI. 

Prior-Park^  September  18M,  1758. 

I  HOLD  it  a  kind  of  impiety  to  be  accessary  in  stop- 
ing  that  implement  of  mischief,  the  press,  '.vhile  it  is 
repairing  the  ravages  it  daily  causes  to  sense  and  virtue ; 
and  therefore  I  have  not  deferred  to  answer  your  queries. 

I  have  nothing  at  hand  to  assist  me  but  that  miserable 
farrago,  called  the  "  Continuation  of  Rapin,"  by  Tindal 
and  Birch  ;  however,  this,  I  believe,  is  sufficient  for  our 
purpose. 

Burnet  was  consecrated  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  March  31st, 
1689.  Toleration  Act  had  the  Royal  Assent  May  24th, 
1689.  The  Convention  Parliament  offered  the  Crown  to 
William  and  Mary,  February  13th,  1688-9,  on  which  day 
they  were  proclaimed.  On  the  23d  of  February,  which 
was  ten  days  after,  this  Convention  was,  by  Act,  changed 
into  a  Parliament,  commencing  from  that  important  13th. 

On  April  11th,  1689,  William  and  Mary  were  crowned. 
Laying  all  this  together,  I  conclude  that  Maynard  was 
appointed  Commissioner  some  time  between  February  13th, 
and  the  end  of  March  ;  certainly  before  the  Coronation.  For 
these  great  Historians,  speaking  of  the  new  forming  the 
Government  in  the  Constitution  of  the  Ministry,  the  ap- 
pointment of  Maynard  Commissioner,  and  the  filling  the 
Bench  of  Judges,  conclude  in  these  words — "  All  these 
"  employments  were  disposed  of,  at  several  times,  within 
''  the  space  of  two  months."  Now,  reckoning  from  February 
loth,  it  brings  us  to  April  13th.  So  there  seems  to  be  no 
doubt  but  Maynard  was  Commissioner  at  the  Coronation, 
for  this  was  one  of  the  necessary  Oilicersin  the  procession. 

Could  Birch  himself  now  have  settled  an  important 
point  of  chronologv  better  .' 


201 

I  went  through  Birmingham,  in  my  way  up,  in  hopes 
to  see  Mrs.  Hurd,  but  was  much  disappointed  ;  word 
was  brought  me  back  that  she  was  not  in  town  ;  so  I 
only  stayed  to  change  horses.  I  imagine  the  place  she 
chooses  to  live  at  (which  is  very  natural)  is  near  your 
elder  Brother's. 

Job  becomes  now  as  much  the  subject  of  Dissertations 
abroad  as  he  has  been  at  home  ;  and  I  am  wrote  against  on 
the  Continent  both  in  French  and  Latin  ;  but  with  more 
decency  than  here  at  home  in  Billingsgate  and  English. 

Poor  Erasmus,  after  all  his  undeserved  abuse,  has  just 
now  found  two  Historians  to  record  those  abuses  ;  Burig- 
ny  in  French,  and  your  old  friend  Jortin  ;  (I  call  him  yours 
for  you  took  him  off  my  hands,  when  services  could  not 
mend  him,  to  try  if  just  and  delicate  reproof  could  ;)  I  would 
have  you  read  these  performances  :  I  dare  say  they  will 
amuse  you.  Burigny's  is  well  written,  which  I  have  read ; 
and  so  I  dare  say  will  Jortin's  be,  which  I  have  not  read. 
Though  from  the  rancour  of  his  heart,  I  predict  it  will 
be  full  of  oblique  reflections,  and  if  you  judge  from  his 
motto,  full  of  self-importance. 

But  what  is  all  this  to  you  and  me,  while  we  continue 
happy  in  one  another?  Take  care  of  your  health,  is  my 
constant  admonition ;  and  then  every  thing  that  a  wise 
man  can  desire,  will  follow  of  course. 

P.  S.  I  believe  I  shall  stay  here  till  about  the  middle  of 
next  month,  and  then  for  the  delicious  attendance  at 
Kensington. 


Cc 


202 

LETTER  CXXII. 

YOUR  last  letter  sets  the  poor  man's  criticism  in  a 
very;  ridiculous  light,  but  certainly  not  a  false  one.  How 
doubly  ridiculous  must  it  be,  if  it  be  groundless;  which. 
it  certainly  is  5  and  which  you  partly  hint  at.  It  stands 
on  this  grammatical  principle,  that  if  one  Latin  adjective 
cannot  be  used  adverbiall}',  no  oiher,  of  what  are  called 
the  synonymous  adjectives,  can  ;  which  is  false  in  almost 
every  language.  I  told  you  he  was  ashamed  of  himself. 
I  made  him  so  by  writing  a  letter  to  his  bookseller,  to  be 
communicated  to  him,  to  shew  him  a  true  picture  of  himself, 
by  setting  together  our  different  conduct  to  one  another.  I 
said,  this  required  no  answer.  However,  I  had  one,  which 
shewed  how  glad  he  was  to  get  out  of  the  scrape.  When  I 
couie  home  I  will  send  them  to  you,  as  I  can  then  do,  frank- 
ed. However  I  must  not  at  present  omit  one  particular  in 
mine,  to  Whiston.  Speaking  of  his  paltry  joke  of  est  genus 
hominum^^c.  which  I  say,  "  after  it  had  been  so  much 
"  worn  by  frequent  application  to  many  of  my  betters, 
''  might  as  well  have  been  omitted."  I  add,  "  I  will  re- 
"  quite  his  kindness  o't  princeps  P/f/^o,  but  in  a  more 
"  secret  way,  by  observing  to  him  only,  that  where  at  p. 
"  114  he  translates  the  words  of  Bembus,  opud  inferos 
"  pcena^  by  the  pains  of  hell^  he  should  have  said,  the  pains 
"  '^f  P^'^^S^^^^h'i  ^^  Indulgences  were  from  the  pains  of  pur- 
"  gatory,  and  not  of  hell ;  and  as  Bembus's  apud  inferos 
"  contained  both  a  hell  and  a  purgatory." 

I  did  this  to  intimate  to  him  that  his  Transla- 
lioi^s  were  full  of  mistakes,  and  that  this  was  a  gross  one, 
for  a  man  to  undertake  the  Life  of  Erasmus,  while  he  Avas 
ignorant  of  the  nature  and  application  of  the  Bulls  of  In- 
dulgences. I  own  I  was  well  entertained  with  this 
Life,  and  so  I  told  Whiston  :  but  the  public  think  other- 
wise of  it.     The   want  of  a  plarx  and  method  in  the  com- 


203 

position  has  given  a  general  disgust.  They  say,  if  you 
take  away  his  translation  of  Le  Clerc,  and  his  numerous 
quotations,  you  leave  him  nothing  but  his  notes.  This 
seems  to  be  the  general  voice.  The  consequence  is,  it 
does  not  sell.  What  has  increased  the  public  ill-humour, 
is  its  being  only  one  volume  of  a  work,  which,  in  the 
public  advertisements,  was  denounced  as  complete.  But, 
too  much  on  so  ridiculous  a  subject. 

I  am  sorry  you  are  not  so  forward  at  the  press  as  I  im- 
agined :  why  I  was  for  having  it  come  out  before  Christ- 
mas, was  because  many  things  will  pour  out  from  the  press 
after  the  holydays.  I  shall  be  here  till  about  the  22d  of  next 
month.  How  are  your  motions  regulated,  and  when  are 
we  to  expect  you  at  Prior-Park  ?  And  from  what  quarter 
do  you  proceed  to  us  ?  God  bless  you.  You  know  how 
happy  your  letters  always  make  me  :  and  you  believe,  I 
hope,  (my  dearest  Friend,)  that  no  one  was  ever  more  an- 
other's,  than  I  am  yours, 

W.  WARBURTON, 

Grosvenor-Square^  October  25d,  1758. 


LETTER  CXXIII. 

Gi'osvenor-Square,  November  '25 fh^  1758. 

I  HAVE  been  in  your  debt  ever  since  the  receipt  of 
your  last  of  the  28th  ;  but  would  discharge  it  before  I  left 
London,  from  whence  I  am  hastening  with  one  foot  in 
the  post-chaise.  I  have  not  forgot  to  take  down  with  me 
what  is  already  printed  off  of  your  Dialogues* 

The  Session  is  just  opened  :  it  is  likely  to  prove  a  quiet 
one.  The  successes  of  this  last  year  seem  to  have  damped 
that  spirit  of  envy,  which  Mr.  Pitt's  superior  virtues  had 
raised  from  the  soil  of  corruption,  and  ready  (as  it  was 
said)  to  break  upon  his  head- 


204 

A  ridiculous  accident  happened  not  long  ago,  which  is 
likely  to  prove  a  serious  one  to  the  party  concerned. 
Lady  Betty  Waldegrave,  one  of  the  Ladies  of  the  Bed- 
chamber, wrote  to  her  Husband,  in  Germany,  in  a  very 
free  manner,  of  all  the  intrigues  of  Court  and  Parties,  in 
M  hich  Mr.  Pitt  is  mentioned  more  to  his  honour  than 
certain  persons  cared  to  hear.  By  ill  luck,  the  despatches, 
in  which  was  this  letter,  were  intercepted.  It  was  signed 
only  E.  W.  and  the  direction  lost.  The  French  mistook 
it  lor  a  letter  of  the  Countess  of  Yarmouth,  and  as  such, 
published,  and  cried  it  about  at  the  Hague.  You  may 
judge  what  alarm  this  gave  at  Court ;  and  what  apprehen- 
sions and  uneasiness  to  the  party  concerned. 


LETTER  CXXIV. 

Prior-Park^  December  14th,  1758. 
I  HAVE  your  favour  of  the  8th,  and  rejoice  to  hear 
that  all  most  dear  to  you  are  well. — I  took  down  with  me, 
as  I  told  you,  all  that  you  had  printed,  to  the  208th  page. 
If  the  Work  does  not  take,  I  shall  think  the  times  aban- 
doned to  their  evil  genius.  I  have  read  to  the  116th  page, 
and  find  not  a  word  to  alter.  Had  I  experienced  (in  read- 
ing my  own  Works,  or  my  friends')  the  task  of  alteration 
and  amendment  endless,  I  should  have  concluded  this 
talent  in  mc,  such  as  it  is,  to  be  at  best  but  an  exuberance 
of  fancy  and  conceit,  working  to  no  end,  but  the  dis- 
charge of  itself.  But  since  I  have  found  that  when  your 
Works  or  mine  are  brought  up  to  a  certain  degree,  the 
vein  of  criticism  dries  up,  and  flows  no  more,  I  flatter 
myself  it  may  be  founded  in  sense  and  nature  :  and  I  am 
ready  to  apply  to  my  criticism  what  Mr.  Pope  said  of  his 

Tuorals  : 

"  A  lasli  like  mine  no  honest  man  shall  dread, 
,  ''  Jiut  ull  such  babbling  blockheads  in  his  stead.'* 


205 

}  ha,ve  here  inclosed  you  the  two  letters  I  promised. 
The  poor  unhappy  man  concerned  in  them  is  fallen  into 
one  of  his  dreadful,  fits  of  melancholy,  as  I  am  told  ; 
whether  for  the  ill  success  of  his  book,  which  is  fallen 
into  general  contempt,  which  it, d^eg  not  deserve,  or  for 
what  other  cause  I  know  not.  I  should  not  leave  this 
foolish  subject  without  observing  one  thing,  the  excessive 
meanuess  of  Joytin,  atid  the  excessive  malignity  of  his 
friends,  who  could  think  it  possible  that  I  could  have  any 
hand  in  a  piece  of  irony  where  I  am  so  excessively  ex- 
tolled and  adorned  ;  yet  this  ajipears  by  his  letter  to  have 
been  the  case.  This,  of  all  their  iniquitous  behaviour  to 
me,  is  the  last  thing  I  could  forgive  ;  as  it  was  endeavour- 
ing to  make  me  both  odious  and  ridiculous  in  an  age  that 
will  not  allow  a  man  to  say  the  least  good  of  himself,  and 
will  hardly  bear  to  hear  it  from  another. 

I  may  send  you,  or  shew  you,  another  conflict  of  a 
different  kind.  One  Pvlr.  Jane,  a  student  and  tutor  of 
Christ  Church,  (a  man,  as  Dr.  Nichols  tells  me,  of  whom 
I  inquired,  many  years  very  respectable  for  his  piety 
learning,  and  great  sequestration  of  himself,)  wrote  me 
an  expostulatory  letter  in  the  very  spirit  of  Methodisin. 
You  will  not  be  surprised  that  I  should  give  much  offence 
to  this  rigid  piety  ;  but  you  will  never  guess  what  he  pick- 
ed out  to  declare  his  abhorrence  of.  It  was  this  passage 
in  the  Dedication  :  Those  xvhc?n  their  profession  has  dedi- 
cated to  this  service^  experience  has  taxight^  ££?c. — He  is 
scandalized  that  a  Minister  of  Christ  should  be  supposed 
busied  in  pitshing  his  fortune,  but  towards  the  cross-;  or 
that  he  can  desire  to  fgnre  any  where  but  in  Heaven. 
There  were  the  marks  of  great  candour  and  goodness 
throughout  the  Letter :  and  it  struck  my  fancy  to  trv 
whether  I  could  not  Roften  and  humanize  a  little  this  atro 
cious  virtue  ;  which  I  attempted  to  do  in  a  very  long 
answer. 


206 

Cox  was  admitted  Prebendary  last  August.  I  did  not 
mention  it  to  you,  because  I  took  it  for  granted  you  did 
not  want  to  be  told  that  he  was  the  man  for  whom  the 
promise  was  made  to  Lord  Hardv/icke,  of  which  the 
Keeper  informed  Mr.  Allen. 

On  second  thoughts,  I  have  sent  you  a  copy*  of  the 
Letter  I  mentioned  above,  that  you  may  see  and  admire 
my  proficiency  in  the  art  of  conciliating  the  good  will  of 
those  I  would  cajole  ;  and  laugh  at  my  absiirdity  in  choosing 
to  exercise  it  on  this  honest  Christ  Church  Student,  in- 
stead of  Ministers  of  State. 


LETTER  CXXV. 

Prior-Park^  January  SOth,  17S9. 

I  HAVE  received  two  kind  lettevs  from  y.  u.  As  to 
the  first,  you  will  always  have  your  OAvn  way,  anti  what 
is  more  provoking,  you  will  insist  upon  your  being  in  the 
right. 

I  am  sorry  your  Papers  are  not  yet  found. — If  Gale*s 
reason  for  the  spuriousness  of  the  C'lr^.rt.-r  be  only  the 
rarity  of  it,  it  is  true  Antiquarian  Criticism,  and  deserves 
no  other  notice  than  to  be  hugh..-.d  at.  Hov/ever,  the 
Charter  is,  undoubcedly,  very  ancient  ;  and  the  forger, 
if  such  he  was,  followed  cvstom  and  the  common  idea  of 
Bastardus^  which  is  enough  for  your  purpose  ;  so  if  you 
will  reprint  the  lev^f,  you  will  have  matter  enough  for  a 
note  both  serious  and  comic. 

*  This  copy  does  not  appeal"  among  my  Papers.  But  the  Lottei-  was 
written  with  wonderful  softness  and  condescension,  and  bad  the  effect  pit), 
posed.  The  good  man  entertained,  ever  after,  the  gi-eatest  veneration  for 
Dr.  Warburton  and  shewed  it  on  all  oci-asions  when  lie  was  Pislsop  of  Glou- 
cester ;  by  which  time,  jVIr.  June  h.^d  been  preferred  by  his  College  to  the 
Rectorv  of  Iron-Atton,  in  that  Diocese.     //. 


207 

Browne,  I  find,  pursues  his  system — to  talk  magni- 
ficently ;  and  act,  now  extravagandy,  and  now  again 
meanly. 

As  to  my  letters  to  Middleton,  I  do  not  recollect  any 
one  word  or  sentiment  of  any  one  letter.  Only  this  I 
know  ;  I  spoke  my  sentiments  freely  of  men  and  things, 
because  this  is  my  way  :  therefore  it  cannot  but  be  that 
there  must  be  things  in  them  which  will  give  offence.  Yet 
I  can  never  think  that  the  woman  can  be  so  infamous  to 
print  them  without  my  leave.  I  acted  very  differendy  by 
her  husband.  When  her  own  Bookseller  collected  a  com- 
plete Edition  of  his  Works,  I  gave  him,  at  his  request, 
about  a  dozen  of  the  Doctor's  letters,  carefully  purged  of 
dom-'stic  matters,  and  such  as  might  give  oftence,  in  order 
to  make  men  think  better  both  of  his  moral  and  religious 
character.  However,  if  the  woman  be  thus  prostituted  to 
gain,  I  must  trv  whether  the  courts  of  justice  or  equity 
will  give  mc  relief,  for  a  violation  of  the  most  sacred  trust 
amongst  mankind. — The  substance  of  all  this  I  have  by 
this  post  wrote  to  Dr.  Heberden,  desiring  him,  if  there 
be  any  truth  in  this  report,  he  would  remonstrate  with  the 
widow,  with  whom,  I  suppose,  he  has  a  particular  influ- 
ence. 

Another  piece  of  news  gives  me  much  more  concern, 
that  we  shall  not  have  Lord  Clarendon's  History,  of  an 
age.  Robertson's  History  is,  I  think,  extremely  well 
written. — It  was  well  observed,  that  nobody  in  the  Au- 
gustan age  could  conceive  that  so  soon  after,  a  Horse 
should  be  made  Consul :  and  yet  matters  were  so  well  pre- 
pared by  the  time  of  Caligula,  that  nobody  was  surprised 
at  the  matter.  So  v/hen  Clarendon  and  Temple  wrote 
Histor)'-,  the)-  little  thought  the  time  was  so  near  when  a 
vagabond  Scot  should  write  nonsense*  ten  thousand  strong. 

*  Smollett's  History  of  England,  of  ^\hich   10,000  copies    were  said  to  be 
sold  off,  the  first  Edition.     //. 


208 

As  you  stay  till  the  5th,  I  hope  I  shall  get  a  glimpse 
of  yoa;  for,  on  the  4tli,  I  shall  get  to  town,  when  I  hope 
you  will  (line  Vviia  me  on  a  single  dish,  to  atone  to  Philo- 
sophy for  the  Sybaritic  dinners  of  Prior-Park. 


LETTER  CXXVI. 

Grosvenor-Sqiiare^  Februarij  17 th^  1759. 

THOUGH  I  do  not  altogether  approve  of  your  mo- 
dest scheme  for  the  furniture  of  your  house,  I  altogether 
dislike  ycur  modest  scheme  for  the  future  furniture  of 
your  mind.  What  you  mention  are  indeed  the  necessa- 
ries of  it  ;  but  not  so  much  necessaries  for  yoiu'self,  as  neces- 
saries for  the  public,  and  the  fottndation  of  erecting  some- 
thing lasting  for  their  use. — Men  are  never  so  fond  ot  moral- 
izing as  when  they  are  ill  at  ease.  I  hope  that  is  not 
your  case.  If  it  be,  you  wrong  your  friend,  who  has  a 
right  to  know  it,  and  to  relieve  it. 

I  was  in  hopes  that  on  coming  to  Leicester  you  would 
have  had  intelligence  of  your  papers.  As  that  is  not  the 
case,  you  ought  immediately  to  advertise  them,  with  a 
slight  reward,  as  things  of  no  use  but  to  the  owner.  I  can 
say  this,  after  twenty  years'  existence,  of  the  sheets  of 
the  Divine  Legation  ;  and  sure  you  may  say  it  of  things 
not  in  esse  but  in  posse.  However,  we  will  both  hope 
they  may  be  of  use  to  posterity.  Seriously,  Dr.  Birch 
tells  me  (for  your  loss  makes  much  noise,  so  much  does 
the  malignity  of  men  delight  in  mischance)  that  'tis  very 
probable  the  packet  will  be  presently  brought  to  you  by 
such  an  advertisement. 

Weston,  the  son  of  the  late  Bishop  of  Exeter,  the 
present  Gazetteer  by  profession,  by  inclination  a  Metho- 
dist, and  connected  with  Thomas  and  Sherlock,  is  wri- 


209 

ting  against  my  conclusion  of  the  Dedication  to  the  Jews, 
concerning  Naturalization.  It  seems  he  wrote  in  defence 
of  that  Bill.  The  Father  was  tutor  to  Walpole,  and  the 
Son  is  one  of  his  pupils.  I  am  afraid  he  Avill  be  a  sharer 
in  that  silent  contempt  with  which  1  treat  my  answerers. 

God  bless  you.  You  know  it  is  the  Court  phrase,  speak- 
ing of  some  favourite  Chaplain,  that  he  should  be  pushed. 
I  know  but  of  one  parson  that  is  capable  of  ht'iw^  pushed^ 
and  that  is  yourself:  every  body  else  I  meet  with  are  full 
ready  to  go  of  themselves.  If  you  be  sparing  of  your 
letters  to  me  while  I  am  in  town,  I  will  call  you  a  niggard, 
for  I  am  sure  that  will  anger  the  generosity  of  your  na- 
ture most. 

I  have  a  fine  addition  to  your  note  on  Falkland  and  Wal- 
pole. If  you  have  an  opportunity,  why  should  not  you 
use  it  now  ?  The  addition  is  occasioned  by  a  silly  thing 
said  by  Spence  in  the  life  of  his  Taylor,  but  whose  con- 
sequences are  not  trifling. 

P.  S.  I  am  pleased  that  you  are  obliged  to  be  at  Leice- 
ster, and  with  Mrs.  Arnald,  till  the  settled  Spring 
invites  you  to  Thurcaston  ;  or  rather  till  your  settled 
love  of  us  brings  you  to  London,  to  have  one  peep 
more  at  young  Ascanius,  and  see,  before  inoculation, 

"  Ecquid  in  antiquam  virtutem  animosque  viriles 
•'  Et  pater  iEneas  et  Avunculus  excitai  Hector  ?." 


LETTER  CXXVIL 

THE  loss  of  your  papers  is  much  talked  of;  for,  to 
borrow  a  simile  from  Butler,  the  Sun  is  more  observed 
and  talked  of  in  an  eclipse,  than  when  he  shines  out. 

D  d 


210 

i  hnve  ordered  Millar  to  advertise  them. 

I  luivc  intlnscd  the  scrap  I  talked  of.  You  must  polish 
and  reform  it  to  your  purpose.  You  will  see  there  was 
serious  cause  for  indignation. 

As  to  Hume's  History,  you  need  not  fear  the  being 
forestalled  by  a  thousand  such  writers.  But  the  fear  is 
natural,  as  1  have  oft  felt,  and  have  as  oft  experienced  to 
be  absurd. 

As  to  iMurden's  Papers,  you  will  not  find  much  to  your 
purpose  ;  but  as  your  curiosity  will  lead  you  to  turn  them 
over,  you  v.ill  be  amused  with  a  vtry  extraordinary  letter 
of  Mary  to  Klizabeth,  at  page  558  ;  and  I  dare  say  you 
will  not  think  it  one  of  the  least  causes  of  the  fatal  catas- 
trophe which  soon  followed. 

Hume  has  out-done  himself  in  this  new  History,  in 
shewing  his  contempt  of  Religion.  Tliis  is  one  of  those 
proof  charges  which  Arbuthnot  speaks  of  in  his  treatise  of 
political  lyings  to  try  how  much  the  public  will  bear. 
If  his  history  be  well  received,  I  shall  conclude  that  there 
is  even  an  end  of  all  pretence  to  Keligion.  But  I  should 
think  it  will  not:  because  I  fancy  the  good  reception  of 
Robertson's  proceeded  from  the  decency  of  it. — Hume 
carries  on  his  system  here,  to  prove  we  had  no  Constitu- 
tion till  the  struggles  with  James  and  Charles  procured  us 
one.  And  he  has  contrived  an  effectual  way  to  support  his 
system,  by  beginning  the  History  of  England  widi  Henry 
VII.  and  shutting  oiit  all  that  preceded,  by  assuring  his 
reader  that  the  earlier  history  is  worth  no  one's  while  to 
inquire  after — Should  you  not  take  notice  of  this  address  ? 
I  take  it  for  granted  you  wmU  read  his  History — say 
nothing  of  it  till  it  be  published,  for  I  engaged  my  word 
to  Millar  to  be  silent  about  it  till  that  time. 

All  you  say  of  Malbranche  is  strictly  true  :  he  is  an 
admirable  writer.  There  is  something  very  different  in 
the  fortune  of  Malbranche  and  Locke.  When  Malbranche 


211 

first  appeared,  it  was  with  a  general  applause  and  admira- 
tion ;  when  Locke  first  published  his  Essay,  he  had  hardly 
a  single  approver.  Now  Locke  is  universal,  and  Mal- 
branche  sunk  into  obscurity.  All  this  may  be  easily 
accounted  for.  The  intrinsic  merit  of  either  was  out  of 
the  question.  But  Malbranche  supported  his  first  appear- 
ance on  a  philosophy  in  the  highest  vogue  ;  that  philoso- 
phy has  been  overtui-ned  by  the  Newtonian,  and  Mal- 
branche has  fallen  with  his  master.  It  was  to  no  purpose 
to  tell  the  world,  that  Malbranche  could  stand  without 
him.  The  public  never  examines  so  narrowly.  Not  but 
that  there  was  another  cause,  sufficient  to  do  the  business, 
and  that  is  his  debasing  his  noble  work  with  his  system  of 
seeing'  all  things  in  God.  When  this  happens  to  a  great 
author,  one  half  of  his  readers  out  of  folly,  the  other  out 
of  malice,  dwell  only  on  the  unsound  part,  and  forget 
the  other,  or  use  all  their  arts  to  have  it  forgotten. 

This  has  been  the  very  fate  of  Baxter.  His  noble  de- 
monstration has  been  neglected,  because  he  wrote  of 
dreaming. 

But  the  sage  Locke  supported  himself  by  no  system  on  the 
one  hand;  nor,  on  the  other,  did  he  dishonour  himself  by 
any  whimsies  ;  the  consequence  of  which  was,  that,  neither 
following  the  fashion  nor  striking  the  imagination, he  at  first 
had  neither  followers  nor  admirers :  but  being  every 
where  clear,  and  every  where  solid,  he  at  length  worked 
his  way  ;  and  afterwards  was  subject  to  no  reverses.  He 
Was  not  affected  by  the  new  fashions  in  philosophy,  who 
leaned  upon  none  of  the  old  :  nor  did  he  afford  ground  for 
the  after-attacks  of  envy  and  folly  by  any  fancilul  hypo- 
thesis ;  which,  when  grown  stale,  are  the  most  nauseous  of 
all  things. 

Grosvf  nor -Square^  March  3d^  \759'  y 


212 


LETTER  cxxvirr. 


I  AM  extremely  glad  you  have  read  Hume.  I  will  say 
no  more  on  that  subject  at  present,  having  inclosed  all  the 
hints  that  occurred  to  your   purpose   in  reading  him. 

I  understand  that  that  passage  in  the  poor  creature 
Spence  concerning  polemics  has  given  general  offence.  But 
it  was  mere  chance-medley.  Nor  do  I  suppose  that  the 
Grandees  who  are  offended  at  it,  know  the  true  grounds  of 
the  scandal  it  so  reasonably  causes.  They  think  it  indecent 
in  him,  because  he  is  a  Clergyman;  we  know  it  is  absurd 
and  nonsensical,  because  he  is  a  Christian. 

Weston's  Title-page  to  his  remarks  about  the  Jews  gave 
nie  full  satisfaction,  without  looking  further.  He  talks  of 
the  future  state  of  the  Jews  in  Judea ;  and  you  know  I 
said,  that  were  there  any  such  state  to  be  expected,  then 
indeed  their  naturalization  had  nothing  offensive  in  it. 
This  sticks  out  of  the  tail  of  a  Millennium.  If  I  ever  have 
occasion,  I  shall  shew  it  arises  only  from  mistaken  notions 
of  the  separation  of  the  race  of  Abraham  as  favourites  of 
God,  one  of  the  chief  objections  of  Infidelity  against  the 
Jewish  law.  But  if  separated  only  for  the  sake  of  mankind 
in  general,  then  their  share  in  a  Millennium  and  the  objec- 
tions of  Infidelity  fall  together. 


LETTER  CXXIX. 

I  HAVE  sent  your  Appendix  to  Bowyer.  I  have  just 
touched  it  here  and  there  only  in  the  expression.  If  the 
colouring  be  uniform  with  your  own,  it  is  well.  However, 
jou  wjfl  have  a  proof,  to  alter  as  you  see  fit. 


213 

I  don't  know  whether  you  have  seen  Dr.  Young's  Con- 
jectures on  Original  Composition.  He  is  the  finest  writer 
of  nonsense,  of  any  of  this  age.  And,  had  he  known  that 
original  composition  consisted  in  the  manner,  and  not  in 
the  matter,  he  had  wrote  with  common  sense,  and  per- 
haps very  dully  under  so  insufferable  a  burthen.  But  ihe 
wisest  and  kindest  part  of  his  work,  is  advising  writers  to 
be  original,  and  not  imitators  ;  that  is,  to  be  geniuses  rather 
than  blockheads,  for  I  believe  nothing  but  these  different 
qualities  made  Virgil  an  original  author,  and  Blackmore 
an  imitator ;  for  they  certainly  were  borrowers  alike. 
Grosvenor-Sqiiare^  May  17 thy  1759. 


LETTER  CXXX. 

Durham^  July  8th,  1759, 
I  AM  now  in  your  debt  for  two  kind  letters. — • 
You  tell  me  what  the  Wits  say  of  your  book.  I  suppose 
you  mean  those  identical  Dunces  who  have  been  at  war 
with  sense  for  these  last  twenty  years,  as  they  were  with 
wit  for  twenty  years  before.  But  these  are  nibblers  at 
the  outside.  I  can  tell  you  of  a  London  Divine  that  has 
gone  deeper,  and  has  returned  your  book  in  great  rage  to 
the  Bookseller,  at  your  first  dialogue,  for  being  a  profess- 
ed and  laboured  apology  for  insincerity.  This  occasions 
great  mirth  in  town.  But  I  am  serious  upon  it.  I  am  afraid, 
that  both  you  and  I  shall  outlive  common  sense,  as  well 
as  learning,  in  our  reverend  Brotherhood.  Here  you  have 
a  fellow  ten  thousand  times  more  duncified  than  dunce 
Webster  ;  who  might  charge  me  without  blushing  for  his 
sense,  though  not  for  his  honesty,  with  being  an  advocate 
for  insincerity  in  the  case  of  TuUy.  Of  the  Dialogues 
themselves  (you  say)  you  hear  little  or  nothings  that  is, 
nothing  that  your  modesty  will  let  me  hear  you  repeat. 


214 

As  to  these  Remahis  of  Butler  they  are  certainly  his  : 
but  they  would  not  strike  the  public,  if  that  public  was 
honest.  But  the  public  is  a  malicious  monster,  which 
cares  not  what  it  affords  to  dead  merit,  so  it  can  but  de- 
press the  living.  There  was  something  singular  in  this 
same  Butler.  Besides  an  infinite  deal  of  wit,  he  had 
great  sense  and  penetration,  both  in  the  sciences  and  the 
world.  Yet  with  all  this,  he  could  never  plan  a  work,  nor 
tell  a  story  well.  The  first  appears  from  his  Hudibras, 
the  other  from  his  Elephant  in  the  Moon.  He  evidently 
appears  to  have  been  dissatisfied  with  it,  by  turning  it  into 
lon^  verse:  from  whence,  you  perceive,  he  thought  the 
fault  laj'  in  the  doggerel  verse,  but  that  was  }[\\^  forte ;  the 
fault  lav  in  the  manner  of  telling.  Not  but  he  might 
have  another  reason  for  trying  his  talents  at  heroic  verse 
— emulation.  Dryden  had  burst  out  in  a  surprising  man- 
ner;  and  in  such  a  case,  the  poetic  world  (as  we  have  seen 
by  a  later  instance)  is  always  full  of  imitators.  But 
Butler's  heroics  are  poor  stuff;  indeed  only  doggerel,  made 
languid  by  heavy  expletives.  This  attempt  in  the  change 
of  his  measure  was  the  sillier,  not  only  as  he  had  acquired 
a  mastery  in  the  short  measure,  but  as  that  meaure,  some- 
how or  other,  suits  best  with  his  sort  of  wit.  His  charac- 
ters are  full  of  cold  puerilities,  though  intermixed  with 
abundance  of  wit,  and  with  a  great  deal  of  good  sense. 
He  is  sometimes  wonderfully  fine  both  in  his  sentiment 
and  expression  ;  as  where  he  defines  the  proud  man  to  be 
a  fool  ill  fermentation  ;  and  where,  speaking  of  the  Anti- 
quary, he  says,  he  has  a  great  veneration  for  xvords  that 
are  stricken  iri  years^  and  are  grown  so  aged  that  they  have 
outlived  their  employments.  But  the  greatest  fault  in 
tiu  se  characters  is,  that  they  are  a  bad  and  false  species  of 
composition.  As  for  his  Editor,  he  is  alwavs  in  the  wrong 
where  there  was  a  possibility  of  his  mistaking.  I  could 
not  bnt  smile  at   his  dftecting  Pope's  plagiarism  about  the 


215 

Westphalia  hogs,  when  I  reflected,  that  in  a  very  little 
time,  when  the  chronology  is  not  well  attended  to,  your 
fine  note  about  the  Ambergris  will  be  understood,  by  every 
one,  as  a  ridicule  upon  it ;  &nd  indeed  an  excellent  one  it 
is.  Notwithstanding  this,  I  could  wish  this  fellow  would 
give  us  a  new  edition  of  Hudibras,  for  the  reason  he 
mentions. 

I  received  a  letter  from  poor  Towne,  in  which  are 
these  words :  "  I  have  read  Mr.  Hurd's  Dialogues  with 
*'  much  pleasure;  but  cannot  help  thinking  it  a  little 
"  extraordinary  that  he  should  not  have  made  me  a  present 
"  of  his  book.  As  he  did  not  send  the  last  edition  of 
"  his  Horace  after  he  had  promised  to  send  it,  I  thought 
"  this  could  be  only  ascribed  to  his  forgetfulness.  And 
"  it  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  find  that  this  is  the 
*'  case  now." 

And  now  I  am  got  on  transcribing,  I  will  send  you  a 
passage  or  two  from  some  late  letters  of  your  female  frit^nd 
at  Prior-Park  :  "  I  have  been  leading  Mr.  Hurd's  Dia- 
"  logues.  The  two  last  are  vastly  beyond  my  reach.  In 
"  that  upon  Retirement,  our  friend  seems  to  have  de- 
"  lineated  his  own  mind,  a  mind  which  exalts  him  above 
"  Princes."  And  in  another,  "  Poor  Potter's  death  has 
*■'■  made  me  a  moralist.  I  see  the  vanity  of  all  worldly 
"  pursuits.  I  have  seen  a  man  sacrificing  his  quiet,  his 
"  health,  and  his  fortune,  to  his  ambition,  who  in  the 
"  forty-first  year  of  his  age  died  unpossessed  of  every 
"  comfort  of  a  rational  being.  I  more  than  ever  revere 
''  those  noble  sentiments  of  content  so  unusual  to  be  found 
"  in  men  of  parts,  and  so  eminently  to  be  distinguished 
"  in  Mr.  Hurd."  What  think  you  ?  Her  style  improves 
with  her  sentiments. 

I  am  so  devoted  to  your  satisfaction  and  content,  that 
though  I  had  much  to  object  against  your  postponing  your 
journey  to  Prior- Park,  I  will  say  no  more  till   I  see  you. 


216 

They  will,  I  believe,  be  either  the  last  daj's  of  this  month, 
or  the  first  of  the  next,  when  I  shall  see  Thurcaston.  But 
I  stay  here  till  the  20Lh,  and  shall  hear  from  you  again. 
I  truly  believe  we  have  eacW  of  us  the  frst  place  in  one 
another's  hearts.     Adieu.     Ever  yours, 

W.  WAHBURTON. 

P.  S.  The  real  design  of  the  Candide  is  to  recommend 
Natundisvi  :  the  professed  design  is  to  ridicule  the 
Opthnismc^  not  of  Pope,  but  of  Leibnitz,  which  is 
founded  professedly  in  fate,  and  makes  a  sect  in  Ger- 
many. Hence  M.  Ralf,  a  German,  is  called  the 
author.  But  I  find  it  is  understood  to  be  a  ridicule 
on  Pope's.  But  we  do  not  know  the  figure  the 
Optimisme  makes  in  Germany.  You  will  wonder 
perhaps,  the  translation  was  made  at  my  recommend- 
ation. 


LETTER  CXXXL 

AS  I  go  to  my  sister,  at  Broughton,  for  about  a  week, 
I  shall  most  probably  go  by  Nottingham  to  Leicester.  I 
shall  write  to  you  from  thence,  to  fix  the  time  more 
precisely. 

I  hope  you  remember  that  I  have  Clarendon's  History 
for  you,  which  I  shall  bring  with  me.  It  is  full  of  a 
thousand  curious  anecdotes,  and  fully  answers  my  expec- 
tations, as  much  as  Butler's  Remains  came  short  of  it. 
I  was  tired  to  death  before  I  got  to  the  end  of  his  Charac- 
ters, whereas  I  wished  the  History  ten  times  longer  than 
it  is.  Walpole,  in  reading  the  former  part  of  this,  will 
blush,  if  he  has  any  sense  of  shame,  for  his  abuse  of  Lord 
Falkland. 


217 

Mr.  Gray  has  certainlj^  a  true  taste.  I  should  have 
read  Hudibras  with  as  much  indifference  perhaps  as  he  did, 
was  it  not  for  my  fondness  of  the  transactions  of  those 
times  against  which  it  is  a  satire.  Besides,  it  induced  me 
to  think  the  author  of  a  much  higher  class  than  his  Re- 
mains shew  him  to  have  been.  And  I  can  now  readily 
think  the  Comedies  he  wrote  were  as  execrable,  as  the 
Satirists  of  that  age  make  'them  to  be. 
Durham^  July  17th.,  1759. 

P.  S.  Mr.  Yorke  has  had  an   exceeding  great  loss    in  a 
most  amiable  wife.     I  lament  for  him  and  her. 


LETTER  CXXXII. 

I  HAVE  the  favour  of  yours  of  the  8th. 

What  made  the  Continuation  of  the  History  not  afford 
you  all  the  entertainment  which  perhaps  you  expected, 
was  not,  I  persuade  myself,  (when  you  think  again,)  the 
subject,  but  the  execution  of  the  work.  Do  not  you  read 
Tacitus,  who  had  the  worst,  with  the  same  pleasure  as 
Livy,  who  had  the  best  subject  ?  The  truth  is,  in  one 
circumstance,  (and  but  one,)  but  that  a  capital,  the  Conti- 
nuation is  not  equal  to  the  History  of  the  Rebellion  ;  and 
that  is,  in  the  composition  of  the  Characters.  There  is 
not  the  same  terseness,  the  same  elegance,  the  same  sub- 
lime and  master-touches  in  these,  which  make  those  supe- 
rior to  every  thing  of  their  kind. 

But  with  all  the  defects  of  this  posthumous  work,  I  read 
it  with  a  pleasure  surpassed  by  nothing  but  my  disgust  to 
the  posthumous  works  of  Butler.  Whence  could  this 
difference  arise,  in  these  works  of  sheer  wit  and  sheer 

E  e 


218 

•nisdom  ?     I  suppose  from  this,  that  sheer  wit,  being  in 
deed  folly,  is  the  ojiposiie  to  sheer  wisdom. 

For  the  rest,  nothing  is  truer  than  the  judgment  you 
pass  both  on  the  Master  and  the  Minister. 

We  all  continue  reasonably  well,  and  most  affectionately 
yours  ;  much  regretting  the  delay  of  your  visit ;  but  wish- 
ing you  all  the  enjoyment  that  your  own  virtues  and  the 
fine  season,  which  is  the  emblem  of  them,  can  bestow 
upon  you  in  the  delicious  and  sequestered  bower  of  Thur- 
caston. 

Prior-Park^  Augnat  lA4h^  1759. 


LETTER  CXXXIII. 

THIS  morning  I  received  the  inclosed.  It  will  give 
you  a  true  idea  of  Mr.  Yorke's  inestimable  loss,  and  his 
excellent  frame  of  mind. 

He  has  read,  you  will  see,  your  Dialogues.  And  was 
he  accustomed  to  speak  what  he  does  not  think,  (which  he 
is  not,)  at  this  juncture  he  would  tell  his  mind,  when  la- 
bouring with  grief. 

"  Nam  verac  voces  turn  demum  pectore  ab  imo 
"  Ejiciuntur,  et  eripitui-  Persona,  manet  res." 

Pray  send  me  the  letter  back  by  the  first  convenient  re- 
turn of  the  post,  for  I  want  to  shew  it  to  a  certain  friend 
of  yours. 

Prior-Park^  August  19f/i,   1759. 


■^  219 

LETTER  CXXXIV. 

Mr.  HURD  to  Dr.  WAR  BURTON. 

Thiircaston^  August  26th^  1759. 

COMING  home  this  week  from  a  short  visit  to  Mr. 
Mason,  and  Mr.  Wright,  of  Romely,  I  received  your 
two  favours  of  the  14th  and  19th,  together  with  the  in- 
closed letter  of  Mr.  Yorke  ;  which  hitd  the  effect  you 
kindly  intended  by  it,  to  afford  me  much  pleasure.  It  was 
impossible  not  to  sympathize  with  him  in  his  pathetic 
lamentations  for  his  late  loss  ;  and  not  to  esteem  the  vein 
of  pious  reflection  with  which  he  suppcrts  it.  Hamanitv 
is  but  a  poor  thing  at  best ;  but  in  certain  situations  is 
capable  of  becoming  so  wretched,  that,  let  proud  Philoso- 
phy say  what  it  will,  it  is  not  to  be  endured  without  the 
aids  and  hopes  of  Religion. 

For  his  obliging  compliment  on  the  Dialogues,  it  was 
perhaps  the  more  acceptable,  as  the  general  opinion  of 
them,  as  far  as  I  can  collect  it,  is  not  the  most  favourable. 
The  Dialogues  themselv^es,  it  is  said,  might  pass,  but  for 
the  Notes  and  Preface.  It  is  true,  I  have  heard  of  no 
good  reason,  why  this  playful  part  of  my  book  should  be 
so  particularly  disrelished.  But  there  is  no  disputing 
about  tastes  ;  and  if  such  be  that  of  the  public,  I  have 
that  deference  for  its  decisions  which  Feneloii  iiad  for  the 
Pope's,  and  will  myself  retract,  that  is,  withdraw,  them 
in  another  edition.  What  particularly  pleases  me  in  Mr. 
Yorke's  compliment  is,  that  he  finds  an  extraordinary  reach 
of  thought  in  some  passages.  For  it  would  have  been 
mortifying  indeed,  if  my  pen  had  so  far  disguised  the 
excellent  hints  you  gave  me  for  the  two  last  Dialogues,  as 
not  to  be  taken  notice  of  by  a  capable  and  attentive  readers 


i 


220  * 

TIic  composition  of  the  Characters  in  Lord  Clarendon's 
ConUmiatioi  is,  as  you  truly  observe,  its  chief  fault  ;  ot 
Avhich  the  following,  I  suppose,  may  be  the  reason.  Be- 
sides that  business,  and  age,  and  misfortunes,  had  perhaps 
sunk  his  spirit,  the  Continuation  is  not  so  properly  the 
History  of  the  first  six  years  of  Charles  the  Second,  as  an 
anxious  Apologv  for  the  share  himself  had  in  the  adminis- 
tration. This  h.)s  hurt  the  composition  in  several  respects. 
Am  >ngst  oLht;rs,  he  could  not  with  decency  allow  his  pen 
that  scope  in  the  delineation  of  the  chief  characters  of  the 
Court,  who  were  all  his  personal  enemies,  as  he  had  done 
in  that  of  the  enemies  to  the  King  and  IVIonarchy  in  the 
grand  Rebellion.  The  endeavour  to  keep  up  a  show  of 
candour,  and  especially  to  prevent  the  appearance  of  a 
rancorous  resentment,  has  deadened  his  colouring  very 
much,  besides  that  it  made  him  sparing  in  the  use  of  it. 
Else,  his  inimitable  pencil  had  attempted,  at  least,  to  do 
justice  to  Bennet,  to  Berkeley,  to  Coventry,  to  the  nightly 
Cabal  of  facetious  memory,  to  the  Lady,  and,  if  his  ex- 
cessive lovalty  had  not  intervened,  to  his  infamous  Master 
himself.  That  there  was  somewhat  of  this  in  the  case, 
seems  clear  from  some  passages  where  he  was  not  so  re- 
strained ;  such,  for  instance,  as  the  additional  touches  to 
Falkland's  and  Southampton's  characters.  With  all  this, 
I  am  apt  to  think  there  mny  still  be  something  in  what  I 
said  of  the  nature  of  the  subject.  Exquisite  virtue  and 
enormous  vice  afford  a  fine  field  for  the  Historian's  genius. 
And  hence  Livy  and  Tacitus  are,  in  their  way,  perhaps 
equally  entertaining.  But  the  little  intrigues  of  a  selfish 
Court,  about  carrying  or  defeating  this  or  that  measure^ 
about  displacing  this  and  bringing  in  that  minister^  which 
interest  nobody  very  much  but  the  parties  concerned, 
can  hardly  be  made  verv  striking  by  any  ability  of  the  re- 
later,  li  Cardinal  de  Retz  has  succeeded,  his  scene  was 
busier,  and  of  another  nature  from  that;  of  Lord  Claren- 


*  221 

don.  But  however  this  be,  and  when  all  abatements  are 
made,  one  finds  the  same  gracious  facility  of  expression ; 
above  all,  one  observes  the  same  love  of  v'n-tue  and  dig- 
nity of  sentiment,  which  ennobled  the  History  of  the 
Rebellion.  And  if  this  raises  one's  ideas,  most,  of  the 
writer^  the  CofUinuation  supports  and  confirms  all  that 
one  was  led  to  conceive  of  the  ma?!  and  the  minhter. 

I  return   Mr.  Yorke's  letter   by  this  first  return  of  the 
post,  with  many  thanks  ;  and  am  ever,  &c. 


LETTER  CXXXV. 

Prior- Park,  Septonber  12th,  1759. 

AS  you  are  not  for  great  honours  at  the  price  of  more 
than  they  are  worth,  I  can  only  say,  made  virtute  tuci  ! 
I  wrote  you  an  account  of  the  conference,  because  1  was 
pleased  to  see  shame  come  at  last  j  not  indeed  before  it 
was  called ;  and  therefore  it  comes  with  so  ill  a  grace, 
grumbling,  complaining,  and  promising  what  will  be  per- 
formed, I  suppose,  when  the  Devil's  blind,  or  when  a 
certain  Minister  of  State  gets  his  eye-sight.  However,  if 
I  live,  you  shall  not  be  confined  to  Thurcaston. — Mr. 
Allen  is  now  gone  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Keeper,  at  the 
Grange,  in  Hampshire.  His  only  business  there  is  to 
quicken  the  reversion  xvith  a  drug,  not  one  of  so  quick  an 
operation  as  this  the  poet  speaks  of,  but  a  mere  drug,  the 
memory  of  obligations  past. 

I  have  just  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Balguy  ;  who 
amongst  other  wonders  of  the  taste,  the  sense,  and  the 
learning  of  the  times,  says — "  Our  friend,  it  seems,  has 
"  written  an  apology  for  Insincerity,  and  an  invective 
"  against  Retirement,  and  has  seriously  endeavoured  to 
'■'■  impose  upon  the  world  a  palpable  forgery  :  such  thingb 


222 

"  are  said  not  only  by  great  and  by  grave  men,  (which  is 
"  no  more  than  natural,)  but  by  ingenious  men  :  and  it  is 
''  the  universal  cry  that  the  notes  ought  all  to  be  expunged 
"  in  the  next  edition.  Which  notes  have  not  been  under- 
"  stood  by  any  man  I  have  conversed  with,  except  Tom 
"  Warton,  of  Oxford  :  a  man  who,  with  the  behaviour  of 
*'  a  clown,  has  a  good  share  within  him  of  sound  sense 
"  and  learning.  I  judge  from  his  account,  that  the  Dia- 
*•'  logues  are  well  esteemed  at  Oxford." — As  to  the  Divine 
Legation,  he  says,  "■  I  verily  believe  that  in  this  part  of 
"  England  the  Clergy  know  as  little  of  your  plan  as  they 
"  do  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton's  :  yet  they  read  the  book,  and 
"  pretend  to  talk  about  it." 

Are  not  you  and  I  tinely  employed  ! 

Serimus  arbores,  alter't  qiuxy  seculo  prosint. 


LETTER  CXXXVL 

Grosvenor-Square,  November  2d,  1759. 
THE  ttvo  or  three  pages,  you  speak  of,  you  need  not 
tvait  a  frank  io*  ;  you  may  eidier  send  them  by  Prior-Park, 
or  more  directly  under  cover.  To  Christopher  RobinsoUy 
Esq.  at  the  General  Post-ojpce,  London.  I  by  no  means 
agree  with  you,  that  the  giving  these  two  or  three  pages  is  not 
worth  while  ;  or  that  the  Dialogues  are  only  the  work  of 
amusement:  besides,  every  writer  should  bear  his  testi- 
mony against  ignorance,  prevention,  and  envy  ;  especially 
when  it  assumes  the  impudent  air  of  public  judgment.  I 
could  not  but  smile  when  Taylor  read  me  your  letter,  to 
see  how  little  he  understood  the  first  Dialogue;  you  said 
some  excellent  things  on  that  occasion,  which  I  could  wish 
to  sec  in  these  two  or  three  pages.  How  much  better  did 
Mr.  Yorke  understand  it !  though  he  appeared  not  to  like 


223 

the  manner  of  Fontenelle,  so  well  as  that  of  Tully.  Apro- 
poSy  of  these  two  friends.  Taylor  set  out  yesterday  for 
Lincoln,  to  marry  a  young  lady  of  that  place,  between  30  and 
40,  one  Miss  Mainvvaring,  of  a  reasonable  fortune.  The 
other  appointed  me  to  meet  him,  on  his  coming  to  Blooms- 
bury-Square,  for  the  first  time  last  Sunday.  He  wept 
much.  He  has  great  reason.  But  he  manages  his  sorrow- 
on  the  best  principles. 

Of  the  inclosure,*  you  say  right :  20/.  gained  thus,  is 
worth  twenty  times  the  sum  got  by  levee-hunting.     As  to 
your  solitude,  though  it  certainly  would  raise  the  horror, 
and  perhaps  the  pity,  of  innumerable  fools  in  black,  as 
well  as  red,  and  indeed  of  all  colours  ;  it  only  raises  my 
envy. — This,  as  you  truly  say,  is  an  age  of  real  darkness; 
or,  at  least,  oi false  lights.     For  what  else  are  all  the  na- 
tional advantages  gained  by  spreading  slaughter  and  deso- 
lation  round   the  world  ?  However,  it  is  much  better  to 
xv'in  by  this  bad  means,  than,  as  in  former  bad  administra- 
tions, to  lose.     1    will  venture  therefore   to  congratulate 
you,  even  as  a   philosopher,  on  these   late  glorious    suc- 
cesses in  this  annus  mirabilis.  And  though  I  began  to  think 
with    Bolingbroke,  this  earth  may    be   the  bedlam  of  the 
universe^  yet  I  think  the  great  Genius  who  presides  in  our^ 
councils  may  be  called  the  sage  master  of  this  mad-house, 
who  directs  their  unmeaning  extravagances  to  useful  and 
salutary  purposes. — By  all  means  let  us  have  you  at  Prior- 
Park  as  soon  as  possible  ;  which  I  hope  will  be  soon  after 
the  Parliament  meets.     Do  not  deprive  us  of  this  pleasure 
a  day  longer  than  needs. 

Birch  is  a  good  creature,  and  will  be  pleased  that  he  has* 
obliged  you  ;  I  should  have  told  you,  too,  had  I  thought  it 
worth  while,  that  you  should  have  spelt  Sommcrs  with  a 
double  VI :  all  the  letters,  he,  this  circumstantial  Doctor, 
hath  seen  of  that  great  man,  spelling  the  name  thus. 

*  0/"</je  r/tc/oswre.]  Of  a  part  of  my  parish,  which  raised  the  value  of  the 
living  20/.  a  year.     H 


224 


v^  LETTER    CXXXVII. 

HAVING  so  little  to  say,  I  should  hardly  have  troubled 
you  so  soon,  but  that  I  know  you  would  be  desirous  to  be 
informed  of  Mr.  Allen's  health.  We  hope  this  fit  of  the 
gravel  is  now  pretty  well  over. 

My  wife  has  been  at  Gloucester :  but  did  not  like  the 
condition  of  one  half  of  the  goods,  nor  the  price  of  the 
other ;  so  that  she  chose  to  new  furnish  it,  and  only  lay  out 
with  Mrs.  Johnson  about  50/.  for  what  she  calls  fixtures, 
but  what  they  are  I  know  not.  You  will  see  what  she  says 
of  your  sagacity  in  the  inclosed  scrap.  But  you  won't 
forgive  her  silver  shoulder-knot  for  all  that.  Mason  rarely 
sees  me.  I  fancy  he  is  afraid  of  finding  Browne  with  me, 
who,  by  the  way,  is  now  rarely  without  a  ^  .om  and  sullen 
insolence  on  his  countenance.  I  believe  I  disappoint 
him  in  not  inquiring  into  the  cause,*  which  I  shall 
never  do. — I  shall  be  obliged  to  print  my  30th  of  January 
Sermon.  But  don't  fancy  I  shall  think  it  worth  while  to 
send  you  one  ;  buy  it,  and  welcome  ;  you  may  have  it 
for  a  groat ;  and  the  London  Chronicle,  which  I  esteem 
rather  my  inferior  in  politics,  will  cost  you  three-pence. 
God  bless  you^  my  dear  friend;  thus  episcopally  concludes, 

Your  loving  Brother, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 
GrosveJior-Square^  Ftbruarij  19th^  1760. 

*  The  cause  was  not   suspected  at  tliis  time.     See  Letter,  October  9tli. 
17G6. 


225 


LETTER   CXXXVIII. 

I  WOULD  not  omit  to  give  you  the  enrly  news  (in 
two  words)  that  Dr.  Richardson*  is  come  off  victorious 
in  die  appeal.  The  Precentorship  of  Lincoln  is  decreed 
for  hiai — the  Keeper's  decree  reversed,  with  costs  ot 
suii.  Lord  Mansfield  spoke  admirably.  It  has  been 
three  days  in  trying:  I  am  but  just  got  home  time  enough 
for  the  post. 

Grosvenor-Sqiiare^  February  26^A,  1760. 


LETTER    CXXXIX. 

Mr.   HURD  to  the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCEST£R, 

MY    LORD, 

I  HAD  your  favour  of  the  19th  past,  and  about  the 
same  time  received  the  confirmauon  of  Mr.  Allen's 
recovery,  under  his  own  hand.  I  hope,  this  fit  is  now  over. 
But  it  aftects  me  very  much  to.  think  that  the  declining 
years  of  this  good  man  are  likely  to  be  rendered  so 
uneasy  to  him,  as  they  must  be,  by  the  frequent  returns 
of  this  disorder. 

Mrs.  Warburton  is  always  extremely  kind.  From  a 
Letter,  she  did  me  the  favour  to  write  to  me  after  her 
interview  with  Mrs.  Johnson,  I  find  she  is  intent  on 
dignifying  all  your  Lordship's  domestics,  as  well  as  your 
foounen.  For  whereas  the  Chaplains  of  other  Bishops, 
and  even  Lambeth-chaplains,  are  usually  thrust,  with  the 
other  lumber  of  the  family,  into  any  blind    corner,  she. 

*  The  Master  of  Emmanuel  College,  Cambridge.     If. 
Ff 


226 

invites  me  to  repose  in  state,  in  the  Abbot's  apartment  at 
(iiomrester.  You  will  judge,  after  this,  if  I  can  have 
the  heart  to  say  one  word  against  the  shoulder -knots. 

Your  early  intelligence  of  the  success  of  Dr.  Richard- 
son was  very  obliging.  I  am  glad  of  it,  because  I  know 
it  will  make  him  very  happ)  :  and  because  a  piece  of 
justice  is  done  at  last  upon  a  man  who  had  no  regard  to  the 
decencj,-  of  his  own  character. 

Your  Lordsip  is  always  so  good  to  me,  that  you  will  be 
pl'-ased  to  hear  of  the  health  and  usual  cheerfulness  of  my 
JMoihtr.  She  is  in  a  disposition  rather  to  beg  your  bless- 
ing, than  pay  compliments.  Though,  to  conceal  nothing, 
I  must  tell  you  her  infirmity,  that  she  takes  all  Bishops 
for  such  as  she  reads  in  her  Bible,  they  should  be.  So  that 
'lis  onl\' by  accident,  she  does  not  misapply  the  venera- 
tion she  professes  for  your  Lordship. 

I  resolve  to  have  your  Sermon,  though  at  the  expense 
of  six-pence ;  which  your  Lordship  will  consider  as  one 
argument,  amongst  others,  of  the  regard,  with  which  I 
am  ever,  &c. 

Thtfrcaston^  March  4ih,   1760. 


LETTER  CXL. 

1  HAVE  two  kind  letters  of  yours  to  acknowledge. 

I  am  extremely  glad  that  good  Mrs.  Hurd  enjoys 
reasonable  health.  Her  mistake  about  Bishops  pleases  me 
the  more,  as  an  excellent  woman  like  herself  (ray  Mother) 
Jived  and  died  in  this  capital  error. 

You  ought  not  to  have  expected  my  Sermon  from  the 
poverty  of  the  press.  And  in  the  dusky  road  towards 
antiquity,  if  it  drew  you  aside  by  its  glimmering,  you 
fared  no  better  than  many  before  you  have  done,  who,  in 
a  bad  light,    have  mistaken  a  glow-v/orm  for  a  jewel. 


227 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that  Mr.  Allen  is  not  likely  to 
come  to  London  this  Spring.  For  my  part,  I  shall  leave 
this  place  on  the  recess  at  Easter:  and  if  he  has  laid 
aside  the  thoughts  of  his  journevv  I  shall  not  return  ;  but 
take  to  the  Bath  waters,  the  first  trial  I  make  for  mj-  old 
complaint  of  indigestion,  after  having  tried  every  thing 
else  to  little  purpose. 

Poor  Mr.  Towne  rather  goes  backward  than  advances 
in  his  health.  He  talks  of  coming  this  Spring  to  town  for 
his  health;  in  wdiich  I  think  he  judges  right;  as  liide 
opinion  as  I  have  of  the  physical  tribe. 

Grosvenor-S'quare.,  March  31^?,  1760. 


LETTER  CXLL 

Prior-Park,  June  \7tb,  1760. 

I  PROPOSE  setting  forward  towards  the  North  the 
last  day  of  this  month.  On  the  second  of  Julv,  in  the 
morning,  I  hope  to  get  to  Thurcaston  from  Leicester, 
and  will  do  myself  the  pleasure  to  stay  a  night  or  two 
with  you. 

Somebody  has  abused  Mason  and  Gray  in  two  misera- 
ble buffoon  Odes,  the  Master  of  Magdalen*  is,  poor 
man!  buried,  in  good  earnest,  in  the  midst  of  his  career: 
such  a  bubble  is  humanity,  whether  alive  or  dead  !  i 
had  thought  that  man  more  like  to  live  to  90,  than  any 
one  I  knew. — The  Vicar  of  Newcasde  has,  at  length, 
ceded  his  place  to  the  Estimator  :  who  I  suppose  will 
now  gratify  his  resentment  against  his  former  patrons, 
for  their  turning  their  back  upon  him.  All  here  are  well, 
and  all  yours,  nobody  more  devoutly  so  than  your  truly 
affectionate 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 

"^  Dr.  Thomas  CliapniiiH.     //. 


228 

LETTER  CXLir. 

Mr.  HURD  to  thr  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER. 

THOUGH  your  Lordship  can  never  come  sooner  t» 
me  than  I  vvibh,  I  confess  the  time  of  your  moving  North- 
ward is  earlier  than  I  expected.  I  should  otherwise  have 
made  some  inquiries  after  Mrs.  Warburton's  and  my 
litile  friend's  projected  flight  along  with  you,  which  I 
have  br:tn  feeding  upon  in  im  igination  this  good  while, 
but  which,  I  am  afraid,  is  now  laid  aside  by  your  Lord- 
ship's mentioning  nothing  at  all  of  it.  As  there  is  now  so 
little  time  to  deliberate  upon  the  matter,  I  will  only  say 
that  I  shall  be  at  home  and  alone  at  the  time  you  mention ; 
for  I  hope  I  need  not  say  that  my  little  house,  with  the 
best  accommodations  it  can  afford,  are  always  wholly  at 
Mrs.  Warburton  and  vour  Lordship's  service. 

The  roads  are  so  vmcommonly  good  after  this  drv  Spi  ing, 
that  thi  re  will  be  no  difficulty  in  coming  hither  in  your 
chaise.  However,  my  servant  shall  be  in  waiting  for  you 
at  t!ie  Cranes,  in  Leicester,  on  Tuesday  morning,  cither 
to  shew  you  the  best  wav  for  a  carriage,  or  to  have  my 
horses  ready,  if  your  Lordship  should  prefer  ridirjg. 

Remorseless  Death  has  cut  down  poor  Chapman  in  the 
flower  of  his  life  and  fortune.  I  knew  him  formerly  \K:ry 
well.  He  was,  in  his  nature,  a  vain  and  busy  man.  I 
found,  he  had  not  virtue  enough  to  prefer  a  long  and  va- 
luable friendship  to  the  slightest,  nay  almost  to  no  prospect 
of  interest.  On  which  account  I  dropped  him.  But  the 
rebutr  hr  afterwards  met  with  in  the  career  of  his  ambition, 
might  help,  and  I  hope  did,  to  detach  his  mint!  from  the 
world,  and  to  make  him  know  himself  better. — His  pre- 
feiincnts,  I  suppose,  are  flying  different  ways.  An  ac- 
quaintance of  mine  at  St.  John's  is,  I  hear,  besieging  the 
great  man  for  his  little  Government  of  Magdalen. 


229 

I  have  only  to  add  my  humble  service  to  Mrs.  War- 
burton  and  the  family,  together  with  my  best  wishes  tor 
your  Lordship's  good  journey  to  Thurcaston  ;  which  has 
long  prided  itself  in  having  given  birth  to  one  good  Bishop, 
and  will  not  be  insensible  to  the  honour  of  being  visited 
by  another.  At  least,  I  can  answer  for  its  Rector,  who 
is  ever,  with  all  devotion,  &c. 

Thurcaston,  June  22^,  1760. 


LETTER  CXLIIL 

I  HAVE  your  kind  letter  without  date.  Since  I  wrote 
last,  my  wife  has  had  another  bad  return  of  her  colic, 
which  alarmed  us  very  much,  but  is  now  so  much  better  that 
we  hope  it  will  be  the  last.  1  he  Dr.  (Charlton)  has  been 
constantly  here  ever  since  you  left  us.  She  is  much  re- 
joiced that  you  have  got  safe  home  through  so  much  bad 
weather  and  ways.     You  know  her  great  affection  for  you. 

Browne  is  just  got  here.  His  visits  are  always  surpri- 
ses. He  is  going  shortly  to  London  for  institution  to 
Newcastle.  Your  candour  was  misplaced.  By  his  own 
confession,  his  purpose  in  the  proposal  to  B.  D.  was  to 
keep  Horkesley.  Nor  does  he  seem  sensible  of  any  in- 
consistency between  his  pretensions  and  his  conduct :  so 
happily  is  he  framed  to  satisfy  himself. 

I  am  glad  you  are  about  to  resume  your  pen.  You  know 
what  delight  all  your  compositions  give  me. 

Dr  Balguy  has  got  a  bad  cold,  which  has  interrupted  his 
waters  almost  ever  since  you  saw  him. 

I  congratulate  with  you  on  the  great  news  of  the  re- 
duction of  Canada.  Mr  Allen,  you  may  be  sure,  is  filled 
with  EnglaniTs  glory.  Last  night  Prior-Park  beamed 
Avith  tenfold  splendour  on  the  great  colluvies  of    Bath  ; 


230 

which  I  suppose  has  the  same  effect  with  yours,  upon  all 
Grub-Sireet,  when  they  cry  out  with  the  devil,  in  Milton — 
I  tell  thee.,  how  I  hate  thy  beams. 
I^rior-Park,  October  9th,  1760. 


LETTER    CXLIV. 

Mr.  HURD  to  the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER. 

I  THANK  God  for  the  prospect  of  Mrs.  Warburton's 
recovery  from  her  late  disorder,  which  has  been  more 
severe  than  I  had  any  apprehension  of  when  I  left  you. 
It  will  be  a  sensible  pleasure  to  hear  that  she  is  now  in  a 
fair  way  of  being  perfectly  established. 

On  my  road  hither,  I  chanced  to  pick  up  Dr.  Atter- 
bury's  book  on  the  English  Convocation,  which  has  been 
my  principal  amusement  ever  since.  It  has  given  me  a 
higher  idea  of  the  capacity,  as  well  as  industry,  of  this 
Writer,  than  I  had  entertained  before,  from  what  I 
had  seen  of  his  productions.  The  main  question,  he 
discusses,  xvhether  the  Convocation,  on  their  legal  meet- 
ing, have  a  right  to  debate  and  consult  together  on 
matters  within  their  sphere,  ivithout  a  previous  license 
from  the  Crown,  seems  unanswerably  cleared,  and  his 
determination  very  justly  made  in  their  favour.  And  yet 
I  perceive  much  more  was  afterwards  WTitten  in  the 
controversy.  Dr.  Wake,  as  I  guess,  writ  another  book  ; 
and  Bishop  Burnet  mentions  one  by  Kennett,  as  a  complete 
confutation  of  Atterbury's.  Whether  there  was  any 
thing  more  than  prejudice  in  this  fancy  of  the  Bishop's 
your  Lordship  will  tell  me.  However  that  be,  I  could 
wish  that  Atterbury  had  considered  the  expediency  ol 
this  practice,  us  well  as  the  right.     There  is  no  doubt  but 


231 

the  Church  has  lost  very  much  of  her  dignity  and  authori- 
ty, by  this  disuse  of  her  Convocations ;  and,  by  this 
means,  Religion  itself  may  have  been  considerably  disserv- 
ed. But,  in  other  respects,  I  have  not  light  enough  at 
present  to  determine  for  myself,  whether  these  Church 
Synods  would  be  of  all  the  benefit  to  Religion,  which  Dr. 
Atterbury  supposes.  It  requires  a  very  extensive  know- 
ledge of  the  History  of  the  Church,  to  judge  of  the  argu- 
ment from  j^c? ;  and  even  with  that  knowledge  it  might 
be  something  difficult  to  say,  whether  the  mischiefs  or  the 
advantages  be  greater.  Respecting  the  reason  of  the 
thing,  I  see  there  are  some  material  benefits  resulting 
from  these  Councils;  the  principal  of  which,  as  I  imagine, 
is,  that  any  abuse  or  grievajice,  which  it  concerned  the 
Ecclesiastical  State  to  take  notice  of,  might  be  represented 
with  more  weight  and  effect  to  the  Legislature.  But  then, 
on  the  other  hand,  have  not  tlie  Bishops  authority  enough 
to  regulate  all  material  disorders  within  their  Dioceses  ? 
Or,  if  they  have  not,  docs  not  their  seat  in  Parliament, 
and  the  easy  opportunity  they  have  of  meeting  and  con- 
ferring together  every  year  during  the  Session  of  Parlia- 
ment, enable  them  to  consult  and  provide  for  the  rectify- 
ing of  all  disorders,  either  by  procuring  new  Laws,  or 
more  effectually  enforcing  old  ones  ?  And  as  to  that  part 
of  the  Convocation's  office  which  is  supposed  to  consist 
in  watching  over  the  Jliith  and  principles  of  the  People, 
I  should  question  if  it  would  have  any  good  effect  Bad 
books  might  be  censured ;  good  ones  might  too.  Burnet's 
Exposition  I  find  was  fulminated  :  and  had  the  Convoca- 
tion been  as  busy  twenty  years  ago  as  Dr.  Atterbury 
would  have  it,  I  should  have  been  in  pain  for  the  Divine 
Legation. 

But  suppose  their  censures  ever  so  just  and  reasonable, 
would  they  do  any  good  ?  I  doubt,  in  such  a  country  as 
our's,  they  would  but   whet  the  appetite  of  readers,  and 


232 

be  the  means  of  circulating  them  into  more  hands.  In 
short,  I  do  not  see  that  much  service  could  arise  to 
Religion  from  the  authoritative  condemnation  of  books, 
unless  where  great  penalties  were  to  follow,  which  cannot 
be,  except  in  the  case  of  writers  who  strike  at  the  very 
foundations  of  Government.  And  against  books  of  this 
malignity,  the  State  will  always  exert  itself  to  purpose. 

I  put  the  question,  whether  much  real  service  can  be 
done  Religion  by  these  S)  nods,  which  could  not  as  well 
be  done  without  them?  because,  if  this  be  so,  there  are 
manifest  inconveniences  to  be  apprehended  from  their 
meeting.  The  same  inconveniences,  no  doubt,  or  greater, 
may  be  apprehended  from  Parliaments.  But  these  are 
unavoidable,  so  long  as  Parliamenvs  have  a  right  to  dis- 
pose of  money  ;  and  mtist  therefore  be  submitted  to,  on  ill 
Sides,  on  I  hilt  consideration.  But  a  Government  would 
notliave  more  of  these  inconveniences,  than  it  needs  must, 
or  which  are  necessary  to  be  endured,  for  the  most  impor- 
tant ends  and  purposes. 

The  conclusion  is,  the  Conv^ocation,  by  giving  up  their 
old  right  of  taxing  themselves,  setm  to  h  ive  given  up 
their  right  of  meeting  and  debating.  At  least,  it  is  no 
wonder  the  Govcrn.iicnL  should  incline  to  iliis  side  ;  for 
let  what  will  be  said  for  freedom  of  debate  in  popular 
councils,  no  Government,  1  doubt,  ia  neartiU  for  it,  but 
where  it  cannot  with  any  safety  or  convenience  be  avoided. 

After  all,  I  find  myself,  as  1  said,  very  nntch  in  the 
dark  as  to  the  expediency  of  these  convocational  mteiings. 
Your  Lordship,  who  comprehends  the  subject  perfe^dy, 
will  perhaps  instruct  me  to  think  better  of  them  ;  though 
it  will  be  goodness  enough  in  you,  I  believe,  to  forgive  iiiy 
impertinence  in  saying  so  much  on  a  subject  which  I  pro- 
fess to  understand  so  little. 


23: 


LETTER  CXLV. 

1  THANK  you  for  your  last  kind  letter  without  date. 
You  are  getting  into  the  taste  of  Pope,  who  never  dated 
his  letters. 

I  know  your  drift,  and  nothing  could  be  more  tender. 
If  it  was  possible  that  I  could  love  you  more  than  I  do, 
it  would  be  for  this  letter.  From  a  few  words  that  passed 
on  the  subject  of  Convocations,  1  know  you  was  afraid  I 
might,  sometime  or  other,  publicly  declare  myself  with 
more  warmth  than  was  fitting,  in  favour  of  so  unpopular  a 
thing  as  Convocations.  But  I  know  how  widely  theory 
and  practice  differ;  fit  and  right  in  politics  are  two  things, 
though  in  morals  but  one.  I  am  convinced  of  the  rights  of 
Convocations;  but  the  expediency  of  their  frequent  sitting 
is  another  matter.  I  believe  all  you  say  cf  the  mischiefs 
they  would  produce.  But  I  think  we  have  avoided  one 
extreme  only  by  falling  into  another.  I  think  too  it  would 
be  most  for  the  benefit  of  both  societies,  if  a  Convocation 
could  do  nothing  without  the  Royal  License  ;  if  so  be  the 
Administration  would  act  in  Church  matters  as  they  do 
in  civil,  be  always  attentive  to  curb  a  very  growing  enor- 
mity whenever  it  appears.  Where  would  have  been  the 
hurt  (for  instance)  of  a  Royal  License  to  a  Convocation,  em- 
powering them  to  examine  and  to  censure  Bolingbroke's 
posthumous  Writings  ?  Instead  of  this,  for  the  sake  of 
screening  a  writer*  who  v>'as  for  destroying  the  very  being 
of  a  Religious  Society,  the  Convocation  has  been  kept 
gagged  for  above  forty  years  together.  Your  reflection 
on  the  writer  is  as  just  as  all  you  say  on  the  question.  His 
book  had  exactly  the  same  effect  on  me  ;  it  raised  my  idea 
of  his   abilities  extremely.     I    was  on   my    guard  against 

♦  See  t.Iic  (IciUcHtion  to  Loi\!  Mansfiold.     //. 


234 

every  thing  he  said,  for  I  knew  he  had  two  of  the  dullest 
fellows  in  the  world  to  combat,  Wake  and  Kennett  ;  and 
I  was  aware  how  much  the  dexterity  of  controversy,  in  a 
genius,  is  of  force  to  annihilate  such  adversaries.  But  he 
goes  upon  principles ;  and  all  they  could  possibly  oppose 
Vivt  precedents  :  and  these  are  nothing  when  they  oppose  the 
genius  of  a  Constitution.  And  I  lay  it  down  for  a  rale, 
that  in  a  dispute  concerning  a  public  right,  whether  civil 
or  ecclesiastic,  where  precedents  may  (as  they  alwax's  may) 
be  pleaded  for  both  sides  the  question,  there  nothing  but 
the  nature  of  the  Constitution  can  discriminate  the  legi- 
timate from  the  illegitimate. 

Ivlv   wife  is  extremely  touched  with  your  concern  for 
her.     She  bids  me  tell  you  that  she  hopes  she  is  recovering 
apace. 

Prior-Park,  October  Uth,  1760. 


LETTER  CXLVI. 

I  HAVE  your  kind  letter  of  the  24th  past,  and  would 
not  leave  this  place  without  acknowledging  it.  I  am  going 
to  look  about  me  in  this  new  worlds  but  am  in  no  more 
hurry  than  some  older  Bishops  are  in  their  journey  to  one 
still  neiver.  The  settlement  of  the  Court  and  Ministry  is 
yet  pt-rhaps  as  litde  known  to  themselves  as  to  us.  All  de- 
pends upon  the  disposition  of  a  new  King,  who  is  always 
the  d:\rlingof  the  people,  and  who  suffer  him  to  do  all  he 
pleases  :  as  he  grows  stale,  they  suttcr  him  to  do  nothing 
which  they  can  hinder  him  from  doing. 

I  received  a  kind  letter  from  Mr.  Yorke.  He  talks  still 
of  the  chapter  of  accidents  with  regard  to  Lincoln's-Inn. 
As  we  are  turning  over  a  new  leaf,  that  chapter  of  acci- 
dents may  be  at  the  beginning.     They  talk  of  changes  in 


235 

the  Law  :  but  they  who  talk,  know  just  as  much  as  you 
or  I. 

You  shall  hear  from  me  again  when  I  get  to  town,  and 
have  seen  a  little  of  the  carte  du  pais, 

Mr.  Allen  and  family  follow  me  in  a  week  or  fortnight. 
He  goes  to  renew  his  contract  with  the  Government.  My 
wife,  I  fancy,  will  stay  behind,  the  Bath  waters  being 
now  very  necessary  for  the  perfect  re-establishment  of  her 
health. 

Dr.  Balguy  is  much  recovered,  and  will  leave  Bath  in  a 
week  or  fortnight ;  but  to  return  at  Spring.  He  goes  to 
Winchester ;  from  thence  to  his  Mother's  ;  and  from  her, 
in  March,  back  to  Bath.     His  route  lies  near  you. 

All  here  are  tolerably  well,  and  entirely  yours.  With 
what  affection  I  am  so,  you  know  :  with  what  effect,  God 
knows.  But  his  Providence,  which  brought  us  together, 
will  keep  us  together.  For  the  rest,  cal'iginosd  node 
premit. 

Prior-Park,  November  4thy  1760. 


LETTER  CXLVIL 

Grosvenor-Square,  November  2^th,  1760. 

HERE  I  am,  in  a  world  of  nonsense  and  hurry,  or  of 
hurry  and  nonsense;  for  one  can  hardly  tell  which  is  the 
parent,  which  the  offspring  ;  or  whether  they  do  not  beget 
one  another. 

Our  friend  came  to  an  eclaircissement  with  the  great 
man  (for  1  will  name  no  names  in  a  post-letter)  who  came 
here  to  visit  him  to-day.  And  I  have  the  pleasure  to  tell 
you  that  an  absolute  promise  is  made  of  the  next;  to  the 
exception  of  the  next  in  one  church  only;  which  too  i«=( 


236 

neither  of  the  churches  we  wish  to  have  you  installed  in. 
How  this  exception  of  the  next  in  the  church  of  Rochester 
came  to  be  made,  I  shall  tell  you  when  we  meet. 

Nichols,  Potter,  and  T.  Wilson,  of  Westminster,  preach- 
ing one  after  another,  bedaubed  the  new  King,  who,  as 
i.ord  Mansfield  tells  mc,  expressed  his  offence  publicly 
by  saying,  that  he  came  to  Chapel  to  hear  the  praises  of 
God,  and  not  his  own.  There  will  be  some  remove  of 
Chaplains  ;  if  he  should  turn  out  these  three,  it  would 
give  a  general  satisfaction. 

All  the  family  are  here  but  my  wife,  who  thought  proper 
to  stay  behind,  and  take  the  season  of  the  waters,  for  her 
thorough  recovery. 


LETTER    CXLVIII. 

GroHvenor-Square^  Jcmuary  6th^  1761. 

I  AM  here  alone,  and  have  been  so  this  fortnight. 
But  I  have  the  satisfaction  to  tell  you  that  all  the  family 
are  well  at  Prior-Park,  which  I  have  the  pleasure  to  be- 
lieve is  more  agreeable  to  you  to  know,  than  any  thing  I 
could  tell  you  from  the  great  world  ;  that  is,  from  this 
great  congeries  of  vice  and  folly. 

Sherlock  was  much  more  to  blame  for  not  letting  his 
Chaplain  understand  early  that  he  was  a  blockhead  by  birth, 
than  the  Chaplain  for  not  giving  his  master  the  late  intelli- 
gence that  his  parts  were  decayed  b}'  time  ;  because  the 
Bishop,  with  all  his  infirmities  of  age,  could  see  the  one  ; 
but  his  Chaplain,  at  his  best,  could  never  find  out  the 
other. 

The  Poe7n  on  the  Death  of  a  Lady  I  had  communicated 
to  me  by  Lord  Holderness.  You  may  be  sure  I  did  not  slip 
that  opportunity  of  saying  to  the  Patron  all  that  was  fit- 


237 

ting  of  the  Author  and  his  Poem.  He  considered  what  I 
said  as  flattering  to  himself,  for  he  acquainted  our  friend 
that  he  had  shewn  me  the  Poem  ;  as  I  understand  by  a 
letter  I  have  received  from  Aston,  pretty  much  to  the 
same  purpose  with  the  account  I  had  from  you  of  that 
matter. 

In  asking  after  addresses,^  you  ask  after  those  ephemera^ 
or  water-flies,  whose  existence,  the  Naturalists  tell  us,  is 
comprised  within  the  compass  of  a  Summer's  day.  Indeed, 
these  Winter-flies  have  a  still  shorter  date.  Into  what 
dark  regions  mine  is  retired,  with  the  rest,  I  don't  know. 
But  if  you  would  amuse  yourself  with  my  thoughts,  for 
sixpence  you  may  have  my  Discourse  on  the  hordes  Supper; 
for,  as  small  as  the  price  is,  it  is  too  big  to  send  you  in 
my  frank. 

On  this  occasion,  I  will  tell  you  what  (though  perhaps 
I  may  have  told  it  you  before)  I  said  in  the  Drawing- 
Room  to  a  knot  of  Courtiers,  in  the  old  King's  time. 
One  chanced  to  say  he  heard  the  King  was  not  well.  Hush, 
said  Colonel  Robinson,  it  is  not  polite  or  decent  to  talk  in 
this  manner ;  the  King  is  always  well  and  in  health  ;  you  are 
never  to  suppose  that  the  diseases  of  his  subjects  ever  ap- 
proach his  Royal  person.  I  perceive  then,  Colonel,  replied 
I,  there  is  some  difference  between  your  master  and  mine. 
Mine  was  subject  to  all  human  infirmities,  sin  excepted  : 
yours  is  subject  to  none,  sin  excepted.  But  as  concerning 
my  Discourse,  it  is  assuredly  orthodox  :  so  says  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury;  and  that  I  have  demolished  both 
Hoadly  and  Bossuet ;  for 

''  'Tis  the  same  rope  at  either  end  they  twist." 

The  Archbishop  did  not  say  this,  but  Mr.  Pope.     How- 
ever, the  Archbishop  says,  what  you  are  likely  enough  to 

*  The  AtWress  of  the  Bishop  niul  Clergjy  of  the  Diocese  of  Gloucester.    M, 


238 

say  after  him — that  the  people,  for  whom  I  intend  this 
Edition,  are  not  likely  to  profit  much  by  it. 

Decay  of  parts  all  must  have,  if  not  feel,  Poets  as  well 
as  Priests  :  and  it  is  true  what  was  told  you,  that  Voltaire 
has  lately  given  evidence  to  this  truth.  What  you  say  of 
this  Poet's  turn  would  make  an  excellent  note  to — Buty 
sage  Historia7is,  ^tis  your  part^  8?c.  and  perhaps  shall 
do  so. 

God  bless  you ;  and,  when  you  write  next,  let  me 
know  how  your  good  Mother  does  ;  that  is,  whether  her 
health  continues  such  as  not  to  increase  your  cares  and 
anxieties. 


LETTER  CXLIX. 

Grosvenor-Sqiiare^  January   19/A,  1761. 

WHEN  I  tell  you  of  the  death  of  a  Prebendary  of 
Bristol,  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  at  the  same  time  that  you 
are  appointed  to  succeed  him.  All  that  I  can  tell  you  is, 
that  this  night,  the  night  I  write  this,  the  Chancellor  (for 
such  he  now  is)  receives  a  letter  from  Mr.  Allen,  desiring 
it,  according  to  promise,  for  you. 

It  is  true  that  just  now  is  likewise  fallen  a  Prebend  of 
Gloucester,  by  the  death  of  the  Bishop  of  St.  David's, 
who  held  it  in  commendam.  But,  besides  that,  I  am  not 
certain  whether  the  King  does  not  give  the  next  turn  to 
all  coramcndams  ;  yet,  be  this  as  it  will,  Bristol  is  the  thing 
which  for  many  reasons  we  would  have.  If  we  have  it,  I 
shall  tell  3-0U  my  reasons  ;  if  not,  it  is  no  matter  whether 
I  do  or  not. 

To  judge  by  all  circumstances,  I  think  you  can  hardly 
miss  one  of  them.  But  I  who  have  been  long  taught  to 
mortify  a  sanguine  temper,  where  the  question  is  of  merit, 


239 

gratitude,  good  faith,  &c.  &c.  I  reckon  upon  nothing  till 
it  be  in  possession  :  on  which  account,  what  I  have  is  the 
more  endeared  to  me.  This  makes  your  friendship  so 
valued  by  me,  so  as  to  reckon  you  ever  mine,  as  I  am 
ever  yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CL. 

Mr.  HURD  to  the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER, 

I  SEE  the  reason  why  you  thought  of  printing  the 
Discourse  on  the  Holy  Spirit  by  itself  as  you  did  the  Dis- 
course on  the  Sacrament,  It  was  on  account  of  that  part 
which  exposes  the  pretences  of  our  modern  Enthusiasts. 
So  that  this  Sermon  would  be  as  seasonable  a  reproof  of 
the  Methodists^  as  the  other  was  of  the  Prostitutors  of  the 
Lord^s  Supper. 

If  this  v/as  your  Lordship's  idea,  my  objection  comes 
to  nothing  ;  all  that  part  of  the  Discourse  being  easy  and 
popular,  and  such  as  would  be  readily  comprehended  by 
most  readers.  But  then  I  should  be  for  printing  that  part 
only^  I  mean  from  p.  255  to  the  end,  and  under  some  such 
title  as  this,  The  Trial  of  the  Spirits  of  onr  modern  Pre- 
tenders to  Inspiration,  It  would  make  an  admirable  tract 
on  the  subject.  But  the  inconvenience  is,  that  the  Me- 
thodists would  say  your  Lordship  had  written  against 
them  ;  an  honour,  which,  for  their  own  sakes,  one  would 
not  wish  them. 

Your  Lordship  mentioned  something  of  changing  the 
method  of  this  Discourse.  And  now  I  have  presumed 
thus  far,  I  will  tell  you  a  thought  that  comes  into  my  head 


240 


about  reforming  the  order  of  this  long  Sermon,  which 
from  end  to  end  is  most  excellent.  It  may  easily  be  done, 
if  you  approve  the  idea,  in  some  future  edition  of  these 
volumes.  Though  the  method,  as  it  now  stands,  be 
regular,  yet  the  unusual  length  of  the  Discourse,  the 
abundance  of  matter  it  contains,  and  above  all  the  dispro- 
portion of  some  parts  to  the  rest,  make  the  order  of  the 
whole  appear  neither  so  clear,  nor  so  elegant  as  it  might 
be.  I  would  then  propose  to  detach  the  following  parts 
from  it,  Of  the  Style  of  Scripture — Of  the  Inspiration  of 
Scripture — Of  th^  Trial  of  the  Spirits.  These  would 
make  so  many  distinct  discourses  of  a  proper  size,  for 
which  suitable  texts  might  easily  be  found  :  for  instance. 
Not  in  the  enticing  words  of  man's  wisdom,  for  the  first : 
All  Scripture  is  given  by  inspiration.^  for  the  second  :  and 
Try  the  Spirits,  &c.  for  the  third.  The  rest  might  be  one 
discourse  under  the  present  subject.  Or,  because  the  last 
head,  of  the  continuance  of  the  powers  of  inspiration, 
does  not  perfectly  correspond  to  the  general  title  Cf  the 
Q^cc  and  Operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  two  first  heads 
might  make  a  sermon  by  themselves  ;  and  the  third,  a 
distinct  one,  on  the  Continuance  of  the  miraculous  Poxvers. 
There  would  be  matter  enough  for  this  division  ;  and  I 
imagine  that  what  I  now  propose  was  something  like  the 
method  in  which  these  discourses  were  first  written  and 
delivered. — Your  Lordship  sees  1  am  a  furious  critic, 
when  I  set  on  ;  but  this  Vlth  Discourse  is  throughout  so 
curious  and  important,  that  each  part  deserves  to  be  seen 
distinctly,  and  by  itself.  And  I  should  wish  to  know 
what  your  Lordship  thinks  of  the  proposal. 

I  am  sorry  for  Dr.  Browne. — It  is  very  painful,  as  I 
have  heard  Mr.  Allen  say,  with  his  usual  tenderness  and 
humanity,  to  hear  these  things  of  one  whom  one  has 
known  and  esteemed.     But  whatever  inclination  his  spite 


241 

to  the  family,  rather  than  the  value  of  the  thing  itself, 
might  give  him  to  hold  the  living,  he  must  needs  think 
himself  obliged  by  the  good  advice  of  his  friends.  When 
he  comes  to  cool  a  little,  he  cannot  but  perceive  that  both 
his  ease  and  his  honour  required  him  to  resign  Horkeslky, 
after  what  had  passed  between  him  and  his  patron.  But 
why  is  this  deduction  at  Newcastle  ?  It  is  impossible  he 
should  have  disgusted  tWe  Corporation,  already.  If  Dr. 
Ayscough  thinks  a  Bishopric,  at  his  time  of  life,  and  in 
his  bad  state  of  health,  worth  the  having,  it  seems  but  fit 
and  decent  that  he  should  have  the  offer  of  it. 

How  would  your  Lordship  be  disgraced  if  it  were  known 

that  your  Chaplain  was  permitted,  or,  which  is   much  the 

same  thing,  that  he  presumed  to  entertain  your  Lordship 

with  accounts  of  Romances  ?     Yet   I   muse  say,  that  the 

New   Heloise   has    afforded   me  much   pleasure.      There 

are   many    exquisite   beauties   in  this   odd  romance  ;  so 

odd,  that  one  may  be  sure  the  story  is  two-thirds  fact 

for  one  oi  fiction.     But  to  make   amends  for  tliis  defect, 

the  sensibility  of  the  passionate  parts,  and  the   sense,  the 

nature,  and  the  virtue  of  the   rest,  is  above  every  thing 

we  find  in  the  Crebillons  and  Voltaires,  those  idoi  beaux- 

esprits  of  London  and  Paris. — I  wish  I  could  say  half  so 

much  of  your  Yorkshire   Novelist.      Not  but  the  humour 

of  his    fourth  volume  makes   up   for   the  dulness    of  the 

third.    The  worst  is,  one  sees  by  both,  that  he  has  not  the 

discretion,  or  perhaps  the  courage,  to  follow  the  excellent 

advice  that  was  given  him,  of  laughing  in  such  a  manner^ 

as  that  priests  and  virgins  might  laugh  rviih  him. 

1  must  not  conclude  this  long  letter  without  telling  your 
Lordship  that  Mr.  Sutton  did  me  the  favour  to  steal  away 
from  his  companions  on  the  circuit  last  week,  and  to  spend 
a  day  with  me  at  Thurcaston.  He  seems  intent  upon  his 
profession.     But  v/hat   pleased   me   most  was,  to  find  the 

H  h 


242 

same  sweetness  of  temper,  and  simplicity  of  mannerSj 
which  he  carried  out  with  him  when  he  made  the  grand 
tour.  I  took  this  short  visit  very  kindly  ;  and  the  more 
so,  as  he  promises  to  repeat  it  as  oft  as  he  comes  to  Leice- 
ster. 

Thurcastoiiy  March  18t/i^  1761. 


LETTER  CLE 

Frkr-Park,  March  24fh,  1761. 

YOU  are  entirely  right  as  to  the  ill  method  of  the  Dis- 
course, and  how  it  should  be  reformed  ;  which  direction 
I  shall  follow.  You  judge  rightly,  it  had  originally  the 
form,  in  a  good  measure,  which  you  now  prescribe.  It 
was  in  several  discourses  ;  and  how  1  came  to  jumble  them 
together  I  don't  know,  unless  it  was,  that  as  the  preceding- 
subject  of  the  Messiah  was  in  one  discourse,  so  I  chose 
to  have  this  of  the  Ho/y  Spirit  in  another  :  which,  yo« 
will  say,  was  a  very  foolish  reason  :  but  the  substance  of 
method  is  often  sacrificed  to  the  exteridr  shew  of  it. 

As  to  the  deduction  of  the  90/.  a  year  in  the  Newcastle 
revenues,  it  happened  thus.  The  corporation  contends 
for  its  being  a  free  gift,  and  Dr.  Browne  insists  on  it  as 
his  due. 

I  had  so  much  to  say  on  the  Neiu  Heloise,  that  I  said 
nothing.  And  your  reading  has  made  my  saying  more  of 
it  unnecessary.  I  agree  entirely  in  your  admiration  of  it. 
You  judge  truly,  and  you  could  not  but  judge  so,  that 
there  is  more  of  fact  than  fiction  in  it.  Ihere  would  never 
else  have  been  so  much  of  the  domestic  part.  But,  above 
all,  the  inartificial  contexture  of  the  story,  and  the  not 
rounding  and  completing  its  parts,  shews  the  author  had 
not  a  fiction   to   manage  aver  which  he  was  an  absolute 


243 

master.  The  truth,  they  say,  is,  that  an  intrigue  with  a 
fair  pupil  of  family  forced  him  to  leave  Swisserland.  He 
lives  at  Paris  a  Hermit  as  in  a  desert ;  and,  in  the  midst 
of  general  admiration,  he  will  gain  literally  his  bread,  by 
writing  out  music  at  seven-pence  a  sheet,  though  he  be 
an  excellent  composer  himself.  And  if  for  pence  they 
offer  him  pistoles,  which  is  frequently  done,  he  returns  all 
but  the  change.  Indeed  he  is  one  of  those  glorious  mad- 
men, that  Cervantes  only  saw  in  idea. 

I  fancy  my  Visitation  (which  however  is  not  yet  entirely 
fixed)  will  be  the  last  week  in  June  and  the  first  in  July  ; 
all  before  or  after  having  objections  against  it.  I  am 
taking  care  to  have  the  principal  work  done  with  all  the 
decency  I  can.  God  knows  whether  my  Clergy  will  be 
benefited  by  my  Visitation.  But  I  am  sure  I  benefit  the 
young  in  a  proper  administration  of  the  very  important 
rite  of  Confirmation.  To  administer  it  properly,  I  have 
thoughts  of  confining  it  (by  the  leave  of  my  Clergy,  for 
there  it  will  rest  at  last)  to  the  females  of  fourteen  and 
upwards,  and  the  males  of  sixteen  and  upwards.  Pray 
tell  me  what  you  think  of  this  particular.  Then  as  to  the 
decent  administration,  as  there  are  intermediate  days  in 
the  Visitation,  I  intend  to  use  those  days  in  other  more  com- 
modious places  for  Confirmation.  So  that  this  celebration 
being  distributed  between  the  days  of  Confirmation  and 
days  of  Visitation,  it  may  be  done  without  hurry  or  con- 
fusion. And  for  a  further  security  against  this  scandal* 
I  propose  to  have  blank  certificates  printed,  to  be  dis- 
tributed amongst  the  Clergy,  to  fill  up  and  give  to  those 
they  have  examined  and  judged  fit.  And  yet  all  this  will 
depend  on  the  Clergy's  observing  my  direction — an  at- 
tention to  me  which  I  do  not  expect. 

As  to  ecclesiastical  affairs,  (as  a  friend  you  most  esteeni 
observed  to  me,)  the  duke  of  Newcastle  seems  to  be  on 
the  point  of  shutting  up  shop.     What  a   number  of  bank' 


244 

ruptcics  it  will  make  in  your  dear  Cambridge  !  Bankrupt- 
cies of  sense  and  honesty  I  mean,  for  his  traders  there 
lived  upon  the  imputed  credit  of  them :  for  the  rest,  in 
civil  matters  it  is  said  there  is  a  well-established  harmony 
between  him,  JMr.  Pitt,  and  the  new  Secretary,  Lord 
Bute.  Is  there  any  thing  in  Bell's  inquiry  after  John  the 
Baptist  P  I  liave  not  time  to  read  books  at  adventure. 
You  are  but  a  young  traveller  in  this  wicked  world,  and 
have  the  day  before  3-ou.  So  you  have  time  to  expatiate 
to  the  right  and  left,  just  as  you  are  tempted  by  every 
new  prospect  before  you  ;  get  but  to  a  good  inn  at  night, 
and  it  signifies  little  how  sorrily  you  may  be  entertained 
for  ail  hour  in  a  hedge  ale-house,  into  which  you  have 
been  deluded  by  a  lying  sign.  You  may  leave  it  to  your 
more  experienced  friends  to  recommend  a  good  inn  to 
you  ;  V  here  you  may  solace  ^-ourself  at  your  ease.  I  am  so 
well  entertained  in  that  I  am  in  at  present,  that  I  cannot 
but  wish  you  to  use  it  in  your  waj-.  You  will  be  at  home 
in  it,  it  is  called — Jo.Laiir.  Moshenuj  Instztutiomim  Hist, 
EccJ.  antiques  et  recentioris.  hibri  qiiatnor.  A.  1755.  To 
speak  without  figure  or  exaggeration,  it  is  the  most  excel- 
lent abridged  History  of  the  Church  that  ever  was  com- 
posed :  nor  is  its  method  the  least  of  its  merit.  But  when 
I  mention  abridgtnents,  I  do  not  consider  that  I  am 
writing  in  folio.  But  no  folios  can  tell  you  how  much  I 
love  you,  or  how  cordially  I  am  yours. 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CLIL 

WE  are  all  extreme  glad  to  hear  you  have  got  well 
home. 

I  have  many  thanks  to  return  you  for  your  late  services. 
Let  me   bespeak  you  in  time   for  next   year ;    for,  at  all 


245 

adventures,  I  will  not  go  to  Norwich.  You  and  j-our 
Poet  say  true.  I  will  bet  at  any  time  on  a  fool  or  a  knave 
against  the  field.  Though  the  Master  of  the  course  be 
changed,  yet  the  field  is  the  same,  where  the  race  is  not 
to  the  swift. 

I  approve  much  of  your  design,  and  of  your  motto. 
The  reason  why  I  said.  Editor^  or  Translator^  was,  because 
the  critics  doubt  whether  the  French  be  a  translation, 
yea,  or  no :  therefore  you  will  shew  your  reading  on  this 
important  point,  to  say  as  I  did.  Editor^  or  Translator, 
As  to  the  subject  itself,  I  do  not  think  so  slightly  of  it  as 
you  do.  But  I  agree  with  you,  that  once  treating  of  it 
is  enough. 

Remember  me  kindly  to  all  who  are  dear  to  you,  when 
you  see  them ;  and  tell  your  Mother  I  desire  she  would 
live  till  justice  be  done  to  her  Son.  Judge  v/hether  I  do 
not  wish  her  a  long  life.  But  it  is  for  something  worth 
living  for:  in  which  she  and  I,  and  the  public,  will  rejoice 
together. 

Prior-Park  J  August  19th,  1761. 


LETTER  CLirt. 

Mr.  HURD  to  the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER. 

Thurcaston,  December  25th,  1761. 
THOUGH  I  troubled  your  Lordship  with  a  Letter  not 
long  since,  yet  you  will  perhaps  excuse  my  appearing 
before  you,  at  this  time,  with  my  Christmas  salutations: 
a  good  old  custom,  which  shews  our  forefathers  made  a 
right  use  of  the  best  tidings  that  ever  came  from  Heaven ; 
I  mean,  to  mcreixse  good-will  towards  men. 


246 

Your  Lordship  will  take  a  guess,  from  the  sermonic 
cast  of  this  sentence,  at  my  late  employment.  Though 
I  am  not  likely  to  be  called  upon  in  this  way,  I  know  not 
what  led  me  to  try  my  hand  at  a  popular  sermon  or  two : 
I  say  popular^  because  the  subjects  and  manner  of  hand- 
ling are  such,  but  not  of  the  sort  that  are  proper  for 
my  Leicestershire  people.  To  what  purpose  I  have  taken 
this  trouble,  your  Lordship  may  one  day  understand. 
For  you,  who  are  my  example  and  guide  in  these  exer- 
cises, must  also  be  my  judge.  If  you  blame,  I  may  learn  to 
write  better:  if  you  appi-ove,  I  shall  require  no  other 
Theatre.  But  when  does  your  Lordship  think  to  instruct 
us  on  this  head,  in  the  address  to  your  Clergy?  Certain- 
ly, the  common  way  of  sermonizing  is  most  wretched : 
neither  sense,  nor  eloquence  ;  reason,  nor  pathos.  Even 
our  better  models  are  very  defective,  I  have  lately  turn- 
ed over  Dr.  Clarke's  large  collection,  for  the  use  of  my 
parish  ;  and  yet,  with  much  altering,  and  many  additions, 
I  have  been  able  to  pick  out  no  more  than  eight  or  ten  that 
I  could  think  passable  for  that  purpose.  He  is  clear  and 
happy  enough  in  the  explication  of  Scripture  ;  but  miser- 
ably cold  and  lifeless  ;  no  invention,  no  dignity,  no 
force  ;  utterly  incapable  of  enlarging  on  a  plain  thought, 
or  of  striking  out  new  ones:  in  short,  much  less  of  a 
genius  than  1  had  supposed  him. 

'I'is  well  you  have  not  my  doings  before  you,  while  I  am 
taking  this  liberty  with  my  betters.  But,  as  I  said,  your 
Lordship  shall  one  day  have  it  in  your  power  to  revenge 
this  flippancy  upon  me. 

Your  Lordship  has  furnished  me  with  a  good  part  of  my 
winter's  entertainment.  I  mean  by  the  books  you  recom- 
mended to  me.  I  have  read  the  political  Memoirs  of 
Abbe  St.  Pierre.  I  am  much  taken  with  the  old  man : 
honest  and  sensible  ;  full  of  his  projects,  and  very  fond  of 
them  ;  an  immortal  enemy  to  the   glory  of  Louis  the 


247 

XlVth,  I  suppose,  in  part,  from  the  memory  of  his  dis- 
grace in  the  Academy,  which  no  Frenchman  could  ever 
forget:  in  short,  like  our  Burnet,  of  some  importance 
to  himself,  and  a  great  talker.  These,  I  think,  are  the 
©utlines  of  his  character.  I  love  him  for  his  generous 
sentiments,  which  in  a  Churchman  of  his  communion  are 
the  more  commendable,  and  indeed  make  amends  for  the 
Lay-bigotry  of  M.  Crevier. 

I  have  by  accident  got  a  sight  of  this  mighty  FingaL 
I  believe  I  mentioned  my  suspicions  of  the  Fragments : 
they  are  ten-fold  greater  of  this  epic  poem.  To  say  no- 
thing of  the  want  o^ external  ev'id^nce^  or,  which  looks  still 
worse,  his  shuffling  over  in  such  a  manner  the  little  evi- 
dence he  pretends  to  give  us,  every  page  appears  to  me  to 
afford  in^e'nza/ evidence  of  forgery.  His  very  citations  of 
parallel  passages  bear  against  him.  In  poems  of  such  rude 
antiquity,  there  might  be  some  flashes  of  genius.  But 
here  they  are  continual,  and  clothed  in  very  classical  ex- 
pression. Besides,  no  images,  no  sentiments,  but  what  are 
matched  in  other  writers,  or  may  be  accounted  for  from 
usages  still  subsisting,  or  w^ell  known  from  the  story  of 
ether  nations.  In  short,  nothing  but  what  the  enlightened 
editor  can  well  explain  himself.  Above  all,  what  are  we 
to  think  of  a  long  epic  poem,  disposed,  in  form,  into  six 
books,  with  a  beginnings  iniddle-,  and  end^  and  enlivened, 
in  the  classic  taste,  with  episodes.  Still  this  is  nothing. 
What  are  we  to  think  of  a  work  of  this  length,  preserved 
and  handed  down  to  us  entire,  hy  oral  tradition^  for  1,400 
years,  without  a  chasm,  or  so  much  as  a  various  reading, 
I  should  rather  say,  speaking  ?  Put  all  this  together,  and 
if  Fingal  be  not  a  forgery,  convict ;  all  I  have  to  say  is. 
that  the  Sophists  have  a  fine  time  of  it.  They  may  write, 
and  lie  on,  with  perfect  security.  And  yet  has  this  prodi- 
gy of  North-Britain  set  the  world  agape.  Mr.  Gray  be- 
lieves in  it ;  and  without  doubt  this  Scotsman  may  persuade 


248 

us,  by  the  same  arts,  that  Fingal  is  an  original  poem,  as 
another  employed  to  prove  that  Milton  was  a  plagiary. 
But  let  James  Macpherson  beware  the  consequence.  Truth 
■will  oiit^  they  say,  and  then — 

<'  Qiii  Bavium  non  odit,  amet  tua  carmina,   Maevi." 
My   dear  Lord,  excuse  this  rhapsody,   which  I   write 
currefite  calamo ;  and  let  me  hear    that  your    Lordship, 
Mrs.  Warburton,  and  the  dear  boy,  are  perfectly  well.  I 
think  to  write  by  this  post  to  Mr.  Allen. 


LETTER  CLIV. 

Prior-Park,  December  27th,  1761. 

LET  me  wish  you  (as  wc  all  do)  all  the  happiness  that 
goodness  can  derive  from  this  season. 

The  honour  this  country  derives  from  the  Duke  of 
York's  visit  can  hardly  compensate  the  bad  news  of  a 
Spanish  war,  which  puts  the  City  of  London  in  a  con- 
sternation. This  event  does  honour  to  Mr.  Pitt's  sagacity, 
and  the  wisdom  of  his  advice  upon  it.  Whether  this  vtar, 
which  was  foreseen  by  nobody  to  be  inevitable,  but  by  him, 
can  be  successful!}  managed  by  any  body,  but  by  him,  time 
must  shew ;  for  I  would  not  pretend  to  be  wiser  than  our 
teachers,  I  mean,  the  Jiexvs-writers,  who  refer  all  doubtful 
cases,  as  the  Treasury  does  all  desperate  payments,  to 
timt-.  The  best  thing  which  time  (since  1  wrote  last)  has 
brought  to  pass,  is  the  advancement  of  Mr.  Yoikc  to  be 
Attomty-General.  I  would  have  you,  by  all  means,  write 
him  your  compliments  upon  it :  for,  with  a  high  value,  he 
has  a  great  friendship  for  you.  What  you  say  of  Hume 
is  true  :  and  (what  either  I  said  in  my  last,  or  intended  to 
say)  you  have  taught  him  to  write  so  much  better,  that  he 
has  thoroughly  confirmed  your  system. 


249 

I  have  been  both  too  ill  and  too  lazy  to  finish  my  Dis- 
course on  the  Holy  Spirit.  Not  above  half  of  it  is  yet  printed. 

I  have  been  extremely  entertained  with  the  wars  of 
Fingal.  It  can  be  no  cheat,  for  I  think  the  enthusiasm  of 
this  specifical  sublime  could  hardly  be  counterfeit.  A 
modern  writer  would  have  been  less  simple  and  uniform. — 
Thus  far  had  I  written  when  your  letter  of  Christmas-day 
came  to  hand ;  as  you  will  easily  understand  by  my  sub- 
mitting to  take  shame  upon  me,  and  assuring  you  that  I 
am  fully  convinced  of  my  false  opinion  delivered  just  above 
concerning  Fingal.  I  did  not  consider  the  matter  as  I 
ought.  Your  reasons  for  the  forgery  are  unanswerable. 
And  of  all  these  reasons,  but  one  occurred  to  me,  the  ivant 
of  external  evidence  ;  and  this,  I  own,  did  shock  me.  But 
you  have  waked  me  from  a  very  pleasing  dream;  and  made 
me  hate  the  impostor,  which  is  the  most  uneasy  senti- 
ment of  our  waking  thoughts. 

I  am  much  pleased  with  what  you  tell  me  of  a  set  of  Ser- 
mons ad  populum^  I  mean  to  people  of  condition.  For 
Nature  formed  you  for,  and  Providence  will  bring  you  to, 
another  Theatre.  Your  judgment  of  Clarke  is,  like  j'our 
other  judgments  of  men,  perfectly  exact,  and  true. 

I  received  a  letter  from  Mason  of  the  14th,  and  he  tells 
me  news — that  your  Letters  on  Chivalry  are  in  the  press  ; 
and  he  desires,  when  they  come  out,  I  would  send  them  to 
him  in  covers. 

Sterne  has  published  his  fifth  and  sixth  Volumes  of  Tris- 
tram. They  are  wrote  pretty  much  like  the  first  and 
second  ;  but  whether  they  will  restore  his  reputation  as  a 
writer  with  the  public,  is  another  question-— -The  fellow 
himself  is  an  irrecoverable  scoundrel. 

My  Discourse  on  the  Holy  Spirit  grows  upon  me,  espe- 
cially in  the  latter  part  about  the  Methodists,  which  is  the 
part  I  could  have  wished  would  have  grown  the  least.    13ut 

li 


250 

a  wen  grows  faster  than  sound  flesh.  I  have  yet  printed 
of}"  but  r2  pages. 

I  think  the  Booksellers  have  an  intention  of  employing 
Baskerville  to  print  Pope  in  4to  ;  so  they  sent  me  the  last 
octavo  to  look  over.  I  have  added  the  inclosed  to  the  hmg 
note  in  the  beginning  of  the  Rape  of  the  Lock^  in  answer 
to  an  impertinence  of  Joseph  Warton.  When  you  have 
perused  it,  you  will  send  it  back. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  of  collecting  my  scattered 
anecdotes  and  critical  observations  together,  for  the  found- 
ation of  a  Life  of  Pope,  which  the  booksellers  tease  me 
for.  If  I  do  that,  all  of  that  kind  must  be  struck  out  of  the 
notes  of  that  edition.  You  could  help  me  nobly  to  fill  up 
the  canvas. 


LETTER  CLV. 

I  HAVE  now  seen  the  whole  of  the  Letters  on  Chi- 
valry, and  am  wonderfully  taktn  with  them.  They  should 
be  published  forthwith,  and  the  title-page  be,  as  you  say, 
Letters  on  Chroalrij  and  Romance.  They  cannot  but  please 
all  persons  of  taste,  greatly.  They  are  the  petit-piece  t© 
that  noble  v/ork  of  the  Dialogues. 

IVIy  Wife's  indisposiuon  has  been  long  and  obstinate. 
She  and  her  Cousin  are  rambling  up  and  clown  for  air 
and  exercise,  by  advice  of  her  Physician.  JNIr.  Allen 
and  the  family  set  out  to  her  on  Tuesday;  they  are 
likely  to  go  together  to  London  for  a  few  days,  after  having 
met  (Jii  the  road. 

I  stay  here,  where  the  Captain*  is  confined  to  his  bed 
by  a  lingering  gout ;  which,  if  it  does  not  become  more 
vigorous  soon,  is  likely  to  be  dangerous. 

Cajilaiii  Tucker,  Mrs.  Warburton's  Brother.  7/. 


251 

I  shall  soon  draw  upon  your  friendship  for  a  remittance 
to  Gloucester,  where  I  hope  we  will  find  ourselves  the 
fore  end  of  July. 

Prior- Park,  May   15th,  1762. 


LETTER  CLVI. 

MY    DEAR    RECTOR    OF    FOLKTON.* 

THIS  shall  be  only  to  remind  you  of  what  you  may 
forget. 

Imprimis,  your  Jirst  fruits.     Your  friend  Pearson  has 
put  me  in  mind  of  this. 

Iterriy  Should  you  not    write  a  letter  of  thanks  to  the 
Chancellor,  into  whose  favour  you  seem  to  have  been 
much  crept  ? 
Item,  Should   you  not  write  to  the  Bishop  of  London, 
to  thank  him  for  his  recommendation  to  his  Brothers  ? 
Item,  Should   you   not  write  a  letter  of  thanks  to   the 
Archbishop  of  York  ?       I  have  sent  you  his  letter  in- 
closed. 
These,  you  will  say,  are  like  a  Taylor's    items  of  stay- 
tape  and  canvas.     But  remember,  a  coat  cannot  be  made 
without  them.     I  say  nothing  to  you  of  the  Public.     You 
are  too  much  a  Philosopher  to  turn  your  eyes  downwards 
on  the  dissensions  of  the  Great ;  and  I  cannot  dwell  upon 
the  subject  with  any  satisfaction.       I  am  afraid  we    are  at 
the  eve  of  much  disturbance,  and  ready  to  exchange  a  war 
abroad  for  one  at  home,  less  murderous,  but  more  calum- 
niating.    We  have  long  prayed  to  be  delivered  from  our 
enemies  ;  I  wish  the   Archbishop  could  hit  upon  an  effica- 

*  The  sinecure  Rectory  of  Fo'klon,  near  Hunmanby,  E.  Tl.  of  Yorkshire, 
vacated  by  the  transUition  of  Dr.  Osbaldiston  from  Carlisle  to  London,  and 
given  me  by  the  Clianccllor,  Lord  Nortliington,  at  the  request  of  l\ti'. 
Allen.        H. 


252 


turns  form  of  prayer  to  be  delivered  from  ourselves.  God 
bless  you,  and  preserve  the  peace  at  Thurcaston,  and  in 
all  its  borders  ! 

Grosvenor-Square^  November  24^A,  1762. 


LETTER  CLVIl. 

MY    DEAR    DOUBLE    RECTOR, 

OR  rather,  my  double-dear  Rector:  A  foolish 
fgure,  but  farexvel  it,  says  Polonius.  You  may  guess 
the  pleasure,  the  approbation  of  my  book  by  a  friend  and 
a  judge,  gives  me, 

I  am  extremely  pleased  with  T.  Warton's  new  edition 
of  his  Observations,  and  have  let  him  know  as  much  by 
Balguy.  I  am  glad  he  is  in  earnest  with  his  project  of  the 
History  of  English  Poetry  :  he  will  do  it  well. — Your  ad- 
vice will  determine  me  to  strike  out  the  note  on  his  Bro- 
ther.    The  reasons  you  give  have  sufficient  weight. 

After  I  sent  my  letter  to  you  away,  I  had  forgot  (I  recol- 
licted)  to  inclose  the  Archljishop's  Letter,  which  I  refer- 
red to.  But  you  have  it  here.  I  met  Lord  Kinnoul  in 
the  House  the  other  day  ;  and  he  acknowledged  how  much 
they  were  obliged  to  me  for  my  recommendation  of  you  ;  and 
then  launched  out  in  the  praises  of  your  manners,  your 
politeness,  your  amiable  conversation,  &c. 

Yesterday,  the  Secretary  of  State  laid  the  Preliminaries 
before  the  House,  and  said  that  in  a  day  or  two  they  should 
be  delivered  to  each  member  in  print.  Thursday  se'n- 
night  is  appointed  to  enter  upon  the  consideration  of  them. 

I  left  m}'  Wife  tolerably  well,  though  complaining.  But 
since  I  came  hither  she  has  had  the  most  violent  and  dan- 
gerous fit   of  a  bilious   colic  that  can   be  conceived,  inso- 


253 

much,  that  the  excessive  pain  made  her  delirious.     But, 
thank  God  !  she  has  got  well  over  it. 

Grosvenor-Square^  November  oQth^  1762. 


LETTER  CLVIII. 

Mr.  HURD  to  the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER. 

I  THANK  God  that  I  can  now,  with  some  assu- 
rance, congratulate  with  myself  on  the  prospect  of  your 
Lordship's  safe  and  speedy  recovery  from  your  sad  disas- 
ter.* 

Mrs.  Warburton's  last  Letter  was  a  cordial  to  me  ;  and, 
as  the  ceasing  of  intense  pain,  so  this  abatement  of  the  fears 
I  have  been  tormented  with  for  three  or  four  days  past, 
gives  a  certain  alacrity  to  my  spirits,  of  which  your  Lord- 
ship may  look  to  feel  the  effects,  in  a  long  letter. 

And  now  supposing,  as  I  trust  I  may  do,  that  your 
Lordship  will  be  in  no  great  pain  when  you  receive  this 
Letter,  I  am  tempted  to  begin,  as  friends  usually  do  when 
such  accidents  befal,  with  my  reprehensions,  rather  than 
condolence.  I  have  often  wondered  why  your  Lordship 
should  not  use  a  cane  in  your  walks,  which  might  haply 
have  prevented  this  misfortune  ;  especially  considering 
that  Heaven,  I  suppose  the  better  to  keep  its  Sons  in 
some  sort  of  equality,  has  thought  (it  to  make  your  out- 
ward sight  by  many  degrees  less  perfect  than  your  inward. 
Even  I,  a  young  and  stout  Son  of  the  Church,  rarely  trust 
my  firm  steps  into  my  garden,  without  some  support  of 
this  kind.  How  improvident  then  was  it  in  a  Father  of 
the  Church,  to  commit  his  unsteadfast  footing  to  this  ha- 

*  Of  breaking  his  left  arm,  by  a  fall  in  the  garden  of  Prior-Park.  H. 


254 

zard!  Not  to  insist,  that  a  good  pastoral  staff  is  the  badge 
of  your  office,  and,  like  a  sceptre  to  a  King,  should  be  the 
constant  appendage  to  a  Bishop. 

This,  and  such  like  remonstrances,  in  the  style,  though 
nor,  I  hope,  in  the  spirit  of  Job's  comforters,  I  should 
be  apt  to  make,  if  tlie  moment  were  favourable,  and  I 
were  now  at  your  bed-side  ;  as  I  had  been  probably  ere 
this,  if  I  could  have  found  a  supply  for  my  two  churches  : 
for  the  person  I  engaged  in  the  Summer  has  run  away,  as 
vou  will  ihink  natural  enough,  when  i  tell  you,  he  was  let 
out  of  a  gaol  to  be  promoied  to  this  service.  But  time 
and  patience  bring  an  end  of  all  our  distresses.  I  am  at 
last  promised  a  resident  Curate  from  Cambridge,  but  am 
to  v/ait  for  him  till  after  the  Lent  Ordination. 

I  have  this  day  a  letter  from  Mr.  Mason,  who  promises 
to  call  here  next  week  in  his  way  to  London.  He  speaks 
in  high  admiration  of  your  late  Books,  especially  of  the 
part  against  Wesley.  I  hope,  by  the  time  he  comes,  to 
have  another  Letter  from  Prior-Park,  and  so  to  be  able 
still  more  authentically  to  relieve  his  concern  for  the  ill 
news  I  have  to  tell  him. 

Since  Sunday  last,  I  have  been  able  to  think  of  nothing 
with  satisfaction.  I  shall  now  return,  with  some  com- 
posure, to  my  books,  and  the  finishing  my  two  Dialogues 
on  Travelling,  or,  as  they  almost  pretend  to  be  called,  on 
Education.  I  have  taken  the  greater  pleasure  in  compo- 
sing them,  from  the  fancy  that  they  may  one  day  be  of  some 
use  to  my  friend  Ralph.  And  to  this  end  I  confess  I  have 
the  ambition  to  have  these  papers  pass  through  the  hands 
of  Mrs.  Warburton  j  and,  if  I  may  presume  so  far,  to 
make  a  convert  of  her  to  my  party  :  for  at  present  I  should 
not  think  it  strange  if  she  inclined  to  think  favourably  of 
so  prevailing  a  practice.  I  have  even  that  confidence  in 
the  goodness  of  my  cause,  that  I  should  not  be  displeased  if, 
in  the  mean  time,  she  saw  what  Kousseau,  who  is  fashion- 


255 

able  in  this  part  of  his  scheme,  has  to  say  in  defence  of 
this  custom.  In  particular,  I  could  wish  to  know  what 
she  thinks  of  the  ingenious  expedient  of  making  Emilius 
fall  desperately  in  love,  before  he  sets  out  on  his  travels. 
It  looks  as  if  he  took  a  mistress  to  be  as  necessary  to  a 
modern  Traveller,  as  to  an  ancient  Knight-errant.  Eut 
does  she  conceive  that  this  would  be  an  advisable  experi- 
ment to  be  made,  in  due  time,  on  her  Son  j  that  he  would, 
or  ought  to  go  abroad  in  these  circumstances,  or,  that  any 
good  could  come  of  it,  if  he  did  ?  I  mean,  though  Rous- 
seau himself,  or  another  Mentor,  should  take  the  charge 
of  the  Voyage.  I  take  this  violent  machine  of  a  love-fit 
to  be,  in  effect,  a  confession  that  no  human  means  can  be 
thought  of  to  make  this  early  travel  of  boys  for  die  pur- 
pose of  education,  either  safe  or  useful.  Eut  I  have 
a  hundred  other  objections,  of  which,  as  I  said,  I  con- 
sent that  Mrs.  Warburton  shall  be  the  judge,  if  she  will 
do  me  the  honour  to  peruse  these  papers,  and  to  moderate 
as  her  good  sense  will  enable  her  to  do,  between  Mr.  Locke 
and  Lord  Shaftesbury. 

But  to  return  to  your  Lordship,  whom  I  have  left  too 
long.  Your  continuance  in  bed  is  now,  I  hope,  the  most 
uneasy  circumstance  to  be  apprehended.  It  were  well  if 
you  had  the  faculty  of  slumbering,  which  Pope  celebrates 
in  some  Prelates ;  or  that  you  had  the  knack  of  dream- 
ing awake,  as  might  be  said  to  the  honour  of  some  others. 
In  either  case,  the  time  might  pass  away  somewhat  com- 
fortably in  your  confinement.  Eut  in  defect  of  these  two 
remedies,  which  you  cannot  have,  it  may  serve,  for  the 
time  at  least,  to  divert  your  thoughts,  to  cast  your  eye  on 
this  long  letter.  This  is  my  best  excuse  for  troubling  you 
at  this  rate  ;  and,  now  the  secret  is  out,  it  is  fit  I  take  my 
leave  as  speedily  as  I  can,  with  assuring  you  only  of 
rtiy  constant  prayers  and  best  wishes  for  your  Lordship, 


256 

and  of  the  inviolable    affection    with  which   I  must    be 
ever,  &c. 

Thurcaston,  February  lOth,  1763. 


LETTER  CLIX. 

MY    DEAR    FRIEND, 

I  WAS  willing  to  tell  you  with  my  own  pen,  as  soon 
as  I  was  able,  that  my  cure  proceeds  as  the  physical  peo- 
ple could  wish.  Providence  has  been  graciously  pleased 
to  relieve  this  bad  accident  with  the  most  favourable  cir- 
cumstances. Next  to  that,  they  tell  me,  I  am  indebted 
to  a  long  habit  of  temperance  ;  no  otherwise  meritorious  j 
for  I  think  I  stumbled  upon  temperance  in  the  pursuit  of 
pleasure. — Ever  most  affectionately  yours, 

W.  G. 


LETTER   CLX. 

I  HERE  inclose  you  Mr.  Yorkers  letter.  It  is  my  firm 
opinion  that  you  should  not  now,  when  you  can  aff'ord  to 
take  it,  decline  so  reputable  a  piece  of  preferment,  if  this 
man's  death,  or  resignation,  makes  a  vacancy.  New  orders 
Avere  talked  of,  which  might  make  it  uneasy  to  the  Preach- 
er;  but  it  was  only  talk;  things  being  on  the  old  footing. 
I  should  have  been  much  easier  with  you  in  this  matter 
before  the  sinecure.  For  the  salary  is  only  31/.  a  term, 
that  is,  124/.  and  the  chambers,  which  let  for  30/.  Per- 
haps you  would  keep  the  chambers  in  your  own  hands. 
So  that  it  reduces  it  to  the  124/.  out  of  which  your  assist- 
ant is  to  be  paid,  which  m:iy  amount  to  24/.  or  30/.  a  year, 
at  half-a-guinea  a  sermon.     But  it  is  not  the  money,  which 


257 

uow  you  do  not  want ;  but  the  station,  which  is  the  thing. 
You  have  Commons   in  the   Hall  with  the   Benchers   in 
Term-time,  which  is  the  only  time  of  your  residence. 
Prior- Par/i,  March  24M,   1763. 

P.  S.  Mr.  Allen  is  of  the  same  mind  with  me. 


LETTER  CLXI. 

I  DEFERRED  thus  long  to  write  to  you,  till  I  could 
give  you  some  good  account  of  my  hand.  I  have  use 
the  pump  this  fortnight  or  three  weeks,  and  think  I  have 
received  some  benefit,  though  it  comes  slowly.  The  com- 
plaint is,  a  great  debility  in  the  wrist,  after  the  most  suc- 
cessfid  cure  of  the  fracture  of  the  arm. 

Of  my  Wife  I  can  tell  you  better  news  :  after  long  lan- 
guishing under  the  hands  of  a  Bath  physician,  and  a  reso- 
lution to  go  to  the  Spa  in  Germany  this  Summer,  (a  resolu- 
tion so  fixed,  that  a  house  was  hired  there  for  her,) 
thought  it  proper,  till  the  season  came,  that  she  should  go 
to  London,  to  be  in  the  hands  of  Dr.  Heberden  and  Dr. 
Letherland,  the  two  best  physicians  in  Europe,  in  my  opi- 
nion. She  went,  continued  there  six  weeks,  and  is  re- 
turned almost  perfectly  recovered,  by  observing  a  course 
of  physic  under  their  direction.  And  the  Spa  journey  is 
changed,  by  their  advice,  for  the  waters  of  Tunbridge, 
whither  she  proposes  to  go  the  latter  end  of  June. 

Your  journey  to  5  our  friends  happens  at  a  right  time, 
and  we  hope  you  will  come  from  thence  to  us.  As  to  our 
Gloucester  journey,  that  is  at  present  altogether  uncertain. 
But  by  the  time  you  reach  us,  we  perhaps  may  say  some- 
thing more  positive  concerning  it. 

K  k 


258 

I  have  so  much  to  pour  into  the  bosom  of  a  friend,  both 
of  public  and  private  matters,  that  I  positivily  will  not 
say  one  word  more  than  just  to  recommend  myself  to  your 
good  Mother,  and  your  Brother,  her  neighbour. 

Prior-Park^  May  25th,  1763. 

P.  S.  I  cannot  forbear  adding — Be  not  under  too  much 
concern  for  my  hand.  I,  whose  life  is  a  warfare  upon 
earth,  (that  is  to  say  with  bigots  and  libertines,  against 
whom  I  have  denounced  eternal  war,  like  Hannibal 
against  Rome  at  the  Altar,)  have  reason  to  be  thank- 
ful that  the  debility  is  not  in  my  sword-hand. 


LETTER  CLXII. 

I  AM  preparing  the  second  volume  of  the  Divine 
Legation,  that  is,  the  third  and  fourth  parts,  for  a  new 
edition.  I  had  not  read  over  the  preface  against  Taylor 
since  the  publication,  and  it  pleased  me  to  find  1  could 
make  it  no  better  :  which  is  rarely  my  case.  I  have  oft 
told  you  how  amusing  this  work  of  correction  is  to  me  in 
comparison  of  composition,  where  I  stretch  my  weak  facul- 
ties too  violently  to   give  me   pleasure. 

We  depend  on  your  coming  to  us  when  you  leave  your 
Mother  and  Brother,  to  whom   my  kindest  remembrances. 

Prior  Park,  3Iaij  ZOth,  1763. 

P.  S.  Rousseau's  Letter  to  the  Archbishop  of  Paris  on  his 
Pastoral  Letter  against  Emile  u  ill  much  amuse  you. 
At  p.  65,  you  will  see  one  of  the  strongest  and  surest 
marks  of  Fanaticism  :  I  will  leave  you  to  find  out  what 
it  is. 


259 

LETTER    CLXIII. 
Mr.  HURD  to  the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER, 

Thurcaston^  February  24:th^  1764> 

THE  inclosed  is  for  my  lively  and  excellent  friend,  in 
acknowledgment  of  a  singularly  kind  letter  she  has  honour- 
ed me  with. — i  thank  your  Lordship  for  the  franks,  which 
were  a  seasonable  supply  to  me,  after  the  late  expense  by 
the  press. 

Your  Lordship  guesses  right,  that  I  take  no  concern  in 
the  politics  of  the  time  :  and  for  a  reason  you  will  think  a 
good  one — that  neither  party  seems  much  worth  being 
concerned  for. 

There  be  other  jolhj  pastimes  enough,  as  Milton  says 
to  bring  the  day  about;  one  of  which,  though  not  the 
most  jolly,  has  been  the  looking  into  two  or  three  late 
critical  publications  ;  of  which,  for  want  of  better  mate- 
rials for  a  letter,  I  think  I  must  take  leave  to  give  your 
Lordship  some  account. 

The  profound  Greek  literature  seems  to  have  taken 
refuge  in  the  farthest  nook  of  the  west.  Toup's  two 
pieces  on  Suidas  are  considerable  in  their  way.  He  is 
certainly  well  skilled  in  the  Greek  tongue,  and  possesses, 
besides,  a  particle  or  two,  discerped  from  Bentley's  ^5^, 
which  I  regard  as  the  soul,  or  to  woTi',  as  we  may  say,  of 
the  critical  world.  With  all  this,  he  is  a  piece  of  a 
Coxcomb,  as,  I  know  not  how,  all  the  modern  Greeks,  I 
think,  are.  He  treats  his  neighbour  Heathy  of  Exeter, 
with  sovereign  contempt,  calling  him  indeed  doctissimus^ 
as  occasion  serves;  but  withal,  laboriosis^sirixus ;  a  term, 
as  I  suppose,  in  this  lively  Greek's  mouth,  of  opprobrious 
import.  In  short,  what  by  his  real  talents  in  his  way, 
and    by   the   superior    airs     he    givt  s    himself,    I   ex])ect 


266 

that,  in  after-times,  some  admiring  Dutch  Critic,  half 
asleep  and  all  agape,  will  quote  him  by  the  style  and 
title  of,  Toupius  o  ziraivv,  that  highest  and  most  crowning 
appellation,  to  which  critical  ambition  knows  to  aspire. 
This  corrector  of  Suidas  and  Kuster  promises,  it  seems, 
a  new  Edition  of  Longinus.  I  wish  he  had  chosen  some 
better  and  more  useful  book.  The  Moral  Tracts  of  Plu- 
tarch, for  instance,  are  many  of  them  incomparable  ;  but 
so  wretchedly  printed,  and  so  corrupt  even  in  the  best 
editions,  that  they  are  not  to  be  read  without  much  trouble. 
From  Toupius,  I  descend  by  a  gradation  of  many- 
steps,  to  jfer.  Idarkland,  who  has  published  the  Sitpplices 
of  Euripides;  indeed  reasonably  v.'cll,  so  far  as  respects  the 
printing,  the  rythm,  and  settling  the  reading  of  some 
inconsiderable  words.  But  when  he  condescends  to  ex- 
plain a  whole  sentence  of  his  author,  as  he  does  sometimes, 
though  but  rarely,  he  is  not  so  happy;  of  which,  the 
following  may  serve  for  an  example.  A  narration  begins, 
ver.  650,  with  the  description  of  the  Morning  in  these 
words : 

Eo«A?i£  ■yaTav-— 

This,  your  Lordship  will  say,  is  plain  enough  ;  but  his 
ComniL-nt  runs  thus  :  "  Incertum  est  quo  sensu  voces 
*' xavai\<7a?!r,V,  sumendse  sint.  Barnesius  :  Voetvi  jubar 
"  meridlamun  solis,  quia  canonis  instar  Diem  in  sequas 
"  partes  dividit,  figurate  kxwvo,  dicit."  Mihi,  de  vtatutinf/ 
teivpore  potius,  et  de  ortu  solis  agi  videtur,  et  radius  solis 
appellari  forte  potest  Kam\  cra(?»V,  regula  darci^  quia  oi'ti 
aoh'y  pcrspiaie  et  dare  dignoscimus  res  quw  ante,  et  in 
lenehr'iSy  confnndehantur.  Your  Lordship  w  ill  smile  at  these 
efforts  of  dulness  in  Barnes  and  his  hypercritic  ;  whereas 
either  of  ihcm  might  have  seen,  even^by  the  light  of  Mil- 


261 

ton's  rush'CaJidle,  what  the  true  sense  of  the  passage  was ; 
I  mean  from  that 

"—long  level'd  rule  of  streaming  light" 

in  the  Comus  of  that  Poet,  which  is  a  fine  and  almost  literal 
translation  of  rixiu  nawV  o-a^nV of  his  favourite  Greek  Pott. 

After  this  specimen  of  his  sagacity,  it  can  be  no  wonder  to 
hear  him  declare,  as  he  does  verj'  solemnly  before  he  comes 
to  the  end  of  this  new  volume,  that,  after  all  the  pains  he 
and  others  have  taken  to  explain  Horace,  there  is  not  a 
single  Ode,  Epode,  Epistle,  or  Satire,  which  he  can  truly 
and  honestl}'^  say,  he  perfectly  imderstands.  Was  there 
ever  a  better  instance  of  a  poor  man's  puzzling  and  con- 
founding himself  by  his  own  obscure  diligence^  or  a 
better  exemplification  of  the  old  remark — 71ce  intelligendo 
faciunt  lit  nihil  intelligant  P — After  all,  I  believe  the 
author  is  a  very  good  man,  and  a  learned  ;  but  a  miserable 
instance  of  a  man  of  slender  parts  and  sense,  besotted  by  a 
fondness  for  his  own  peculiar  study,  and  stupified  by  an 
intense  application  to  the  fninutice  of'n. 

I  now  believe  it  certain  that  I  shall  not  go  to  London  ; 
but  for  this  I  refer  your  Lordship  to  Mrs.  Warburton's 
letter.  I  hope  Mr.  Mason  sees  you  and  Mrs.  Warburtoo 
often,    the  only  pleasure  I  envy  him  in  town. 

P.  S.  Your  Lordship  once  lent  me  (I  forget  by  whom 
written)  a  tract  de  Dialogo  conccribendo.  If  you 
have  it  at  Grosvenor-Square,  I  should  be  much 
obliged  to  your  Lordship  to  direct  Millar  to  send  it 
t©  me  in  his  first  parcel. 


262 
LETTER  CLXIV. 

A  LETTER  to  Dr.  Leland,  of  Dublin,  in  defence  of 
me.  wliich  has  just  fallen  into  my  hands,  is  so  admirable, 
that  I  think  I  certainly  know  the  hand,  and  that  it  could 
be  nobod\'s  i^ut  yours.  I  do  not  judge  of  the  author  by 
his  style,  though  I  think  that  detects  him,  but  because 
nobody  else  could  write  so  ;  or  if  they  could,  that  nobody 
else  was  so  well  disposed  to  do  me  justice  and  honour. 
This  then  must  be  one  of  your  tricks  to  serve  your  friend, 
clandestinely  and  by  stealth ;  but  you  see  I  have  detected 
you.    But  I  will  say  no  more  till  you  confess  and  plead  guilty. 

I  am  so  troubled  with  my  usual  dizziness,  that  I  am  just 
this  momcrnt  going  to  be  Weeded,  which  makes  me  break 
off  abruptly,  to  conclude  myself  ever  yours^ 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 

Prior-Park^  October  1 5th,  1764. 


LETTER  CLXV. 

YOU  are  a  pleasant  fellow  ;  but  don't  fancy  you  have 
escaped  me.  You  will  think  it  odd,  but  I  will  assure  you, 
that  on  the  first  reading  of  the  Pamphlet  I  was  as  demon- 
stratively certain  of  the  Aadior,  as  if  I  had  stood  behind 
him,  and  seen  his  trenchant  quill  move  desperately  along 
contrary  to  all  the  rules  of  good  penmanship.  I  knew  the 
hand  that  defended  cloven-tongues,  had  no  cloven-foot, 
though  he  supposed  he  walked  invisible. 

I  am  glad  we  shall  have  you  so  soon,  that  I  may  enjoy 
something  of  you,  as  well  as  the  rest,  before  I  go  to  town. 
My  dearest  friend, 

Ever  yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER- 
Prior-Parky  October  28ihy  1764, 


263 


LETTER  CLXVI. 

I  WILL  not  tell  you  how  much  you  have  obliged  me 
in  this  correction  of  Leland.  You  never  v.rote  any  thing 
in  your  life  in  which  your  critical  acumen  and  elegant  man- 
ner more  shone.  About  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks  ago, 
our  friend  Colonel  Harvey  called  on  us  for  a  few  days  in 
his  way  to  Ireland,  whither  he  is  going  to  take  possession 
of  a  Regiment  of  Horse,  which  the  King  has  given  him 
instead  of  his  Dragoons.  I  put  the  Pamphlet  into  his 
hands,  only  telling  him  that  I  was  not  in  the  secret  of  its 
writing  ;  but  that,  whoever  was  the  author,  he  would  see 
it  was  one  of  the  finest  pens  in  England.  I  desired  him 
to  get  it  reprinted  in  Dublin,  which  he  said  he  would  do 
with  the  greatest  satisfaction  and  pleasure.  This  I  think 
but  a  proper  return  for  Leland's  favour  in  London. 

I  do  not  wonder  that  any  studious  man  should  in  En- 
gland want  physic  at  Spring  and  Fall.  I  am  glad  there- 
fore that  this  suits  so  well  with  you  ;  but  I  hope  Novem- 
ber will  suffice  for  this  purpose.  And  I  should  be  sorry 
not  to  have  you  some  time  with  me  here  before  I  set  off 
for  London.  Remember  that  you  can  take  any  physic,  and 
reject  any  physical  advice,  as  well  here  as  at  Thurcaston. 

Your  correspondents  of  the  pr6«s  sent  the  inclosed  on  a 
supposition  you  was  got  hither. 

Prior-Park^  November  8ih,  1764, 


LETTER  CLXVII. 

Grosvenor-Square^  Februarij  "HQith^  1765. 
I  HOPE  this  will  find  you  got  well  to  your  Mother, 
to  whom  I  beg  my  most  hearty  respect,  as  likewise  to  your 
Brother  and  family. 


264 

I  cannot  express  to  vou  the  warm  sense  I  have  of  your 
late  kind  and  charitable  visit  to  Prior-Park — but  I  will  say 
no  more. 

Were  I  to  tell  you  of  politics,  ecclesiastical  or  civil, 
there  would  be  no  end.  I  will  reserve  it  all  for  Summer 
at  Gloucester. 

Only  I  cannot  forbear  telling  you,  that  when  we  all  di- 
ned with  the  Archbishop,  after  his  uprising  from  the  gout, 
amongst  other  things  of  equal  importance,  he  told  his  Bre- 
thren, in  assembly  complete  and  full,  that  Mr.  Ridley 
had  undertaken  to  answer  Phillips's  Life  of  Cardinal  Pole. 
You  will  hardly  guess  what  I  said  on  this  occasion,  though 
you  are  sufficienily  acquainted  with  my  indiscreet  and  un- 
courtly  politics — take  it  then  in  the  veiy  words  I  said  it,  as 
near  as  lean  remember — "My  Lord,  we  are  much  bound- 
"  en  to  your  Grace  foryour  incessant  care  of  the  Church's  in- 
"  terest.  I  think  Mr.  Uidley  sufficiently  qualified  |for  his 
"  undertaking.  Yet  I  could  have  wished  that  the  task  had 
"  been  performed  by  some  in  a  more  eminent  station.  Mr. 
*'  Ridley's  name  puts  me  in  mind  of  his  great  namesake, 
"  the  Bishop  of  London.  In  those  times,  my  Lord,  the 
"  Bishoj:s  did  not  leave  these  matters  to  their  Chaplains, 
"  but  performed  them  themselves.  He  of  London,  and 
"  Jewel  of  Salisbury,  have  made  their  names  immortal  by 
"  their  Defences  of  the  Protestant  Church  of  England. 
"  And  I  suppose  they  encouraged  one  another  in  these  un- 
"  denakings,  by  the  reasoning  of  Sarpedon,  in  Homer,  to 
"  his  Friend  Glaucus. — '  Why,'  says  the  generous  hero, 
"  '  are  we  distinguished  from  the  rest  of  our  brethren  with 
"  superior  titles  and  riches,  but  that  we  may  outdo  them 
"  in  the  service  of  the  public  ;  so  that  when  men  see  our 
"  great  achievements,  they  may  say,  these  men  deserve 
"  their  superior  titles  and  riches,  who  perform  thus  no- 
'«  bly  ?'  " 


265 

A  silence  ensued.  But  the  thing  did  not  seem  to  be  tar 
ken  amiss.  And  some  said  with  good  humour  enough, 
"  Why  do  you  not  undertake  this  cause  yourself  r"  I  re- 
plied, "•  When  I  think  I  can  do  any  service,  I  do  not  stay 
"  to  be  called  upon.  And  I  appeal  to  Neal's  History  of 
"  the  Puritans,  in  three  volumes,  now  in  the  Library  at 
"  Durham,  which  at  one  of  my  residences  I  took  home  to 
"  my  house,  and,  at  breakfast-time,  filled  the  margins 
"  quite  through  ;  which  I  think  to  be  a  full  confutation  of 
"  all  his  false  facts  and  partial  representations.  The 
"  Bishop  of  Durham  has  seen  it,  or,  at  least,  heard  of  it." 
And  so  we  parted  in  much  good  humour.  I  hardly  leave 
you  in  so  good,  after  forcing  so  long  and  so  tedious  a  let- 
ter upon  you  on  the  road.  May  you  get  well  home,  and 
in  health,  and  find  every  thing  there  as  you  would  have  it, 
is  the  hearty  wish  of  your  fond  friend, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 
P.  S.  I  shall  deliver  the  Illustrious  Heads  to  Millar  ;  nay, 
I  had  delivered  them  to  him  by  the  binder,  to   send 
you.      But  he,  by  mistake,  sent  them  back  to  me  in 
Grosvenor-Square. 


LETTER  CLXVIIL 

Grosvenor-Square^   Jllarch,   1765. 

I  SHOULD  hardly  have  troubled  you  this  post,  but 
for  the  sake  of  the  inclosed.  I  have  your  kind  letter 
from  Birmingham.  Your  fire-side  dialogue  affects  me 
much. 

When  I  mentioned  Gloucester,  I  had  forgot  that  you 
told  me  of  your  purpose  to  try  Harrowgate.  But  I  do 
not  forget  that  I  warmly  advised  }  on  to  it.  And  there- 
fore It  will  be  with  pleasure  that  I  shall  lose  your  compa- 

L  1 


266 

ny  on  that  account.  Besides,  I  should  fancy  (and  I  never 
knevv  fancy  unaccompanied  with  hopes)  that  you  will 
have  a  call  to  Gloucester  before  that  time,  for  Geekie* 
has  had  another  fit,  and  what  will  become  of  him  nobody 
knows.  Poor  Dr.  Stukeley,  in  the  midst  of  a  florid  age 
of  84,  was  last  Saturday  struck  with'  an  apoplectic  fit, 
which  deprived  him  of  his  senses.  I  suppose  he  is  dead 
by  this  time. 


LETTER  CLXIX. 

Grcjsvenor-Square^  March,  1765. 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

YOU  say  true,  I  have  a  tenderness  in  my  temper 
which  will  make  me  miss  poor  Stukeley ;  for,  not  to  say 
that  he  w  as  one  of  my  oldest  acquaintance,  there  was  in 
him  such  a  mixture  of  simplicity,  drollery,  absurdity, 
ingenuity,  superstition,  and  antiquarianism,  that  he  often 
afforded  me  that  kind  of  well-seasoned  repast,  which  the 
French  call  an  Ambigii,  I  suppose,  from  a  compound  of 
things  never  meant  to  meet  together.  I  have  often  heard 
him  laughed  at  by  fools,  who  had  neither  his  sense,  his 
knowledge,  nor  his  honesty  ;  though  it  must  be  confessed, 
that  in  him  they  were  all  strangely  travestied.  Not  a 
week  before  his  deaih  he  walked  from  Bloomsburv  to 
Grosvenor.-Square,  to  pay  me  a  visit :  was  cheerful  as  usual, 
and  as  full  of  literary  projc^cts.  But  his  business  was 
(as  he  heard  Geekie  was  not  likely  to  continue  long)  to 
desire  I  would  give  him  the  earliest  notice  of  his  death, 
for  that  he  intended  to  solicit  for  his  Prebend  of  Canter- 
bury, by  Lord  Chancellor  and  Lord  Cardigan.  "  For," 
added  he,  "  one  never  dies  the  sooner,  you  know,  for 
"  seeking  preferment." 

*  Prebendar)^  of  Cantcrburj',  and  Archdeacon  of  Gloucester.      // 


267 

You  have  had  a  curiosity,  which  I  never  shall  have, 
of  reading  Leland's  Second  Thoughts.  I  believe  what 
you  say  ;  they  are  as  nonsensical  as  his  First. 

It  is  as  you  say  of  Percy's  Ballads.  Pray  is  this  the 
man  who  wrote  about  the  Chinese  ?  Antiquarianism  is, 
indeed,  to  true  letters,  what  specious  funguses  are  to  the 
oak  ;  which  never  shoot  out  and  flourish  till  all  the  vigour 
and  virtue  of  that  monarch  of  the  grove  be  elfete,  and 
near  exhausted. 

I  envy  the  meeting  of  you  three  at  Thurcaston  ;  while 
I  am  confined  here  to  the  assemblies  of  pride  and  dulness. 

I  did  not  mention  to  you,  I  think,  the  insult  committed 
on  the  head  of  the  supreme  Court  of  Justice.  The  abuse 
was  extreme,  and  much  felt  ;  generally  resented,  but  I  be- 
lieve by  nobody  more  than  by  me,  as  you  will  see  by  the 
inclosed.  I  have  made  what  I  had  to  say  on  that  head,  the 
conclusion  of  my  Dedication.*  It  will  please  neither 
party.  I  was  born  to  please  no  party.  But  what  of  that? 
In  matters  of  moral  conduct  it  is  every  honest  man's  chief 
concern  to  please  himself. 

P.  S.  When  you  have  done  with  it,  send  it  back. 


LETTER  CLXX. 

Grosvenor-Square^  May  2^,  1765o 
THIS  morning  I  received  the  inclosed  from  IMr.  Yorke. 
I  wrote  him  word  back  that  I  despaired  of  your  compli- 
ance :  however,  I  would  communicate  the  affair  to  you 
as  desired  ;  and  I  was  sure  that  this  instance  of  his  friend- 
ship to  you  would  ever  be  warmly  resented  by  you,  and 

*  To  Lord  Mansfield.     //. 


268 

that,  as  soon  as  you  received  this,  he  might  expect  your 
answer. 

My  Wife  is  here,  and  is  above  measure  yours. — I  have 
now  determined  not  to  go  to  Gloucester  this  year,  as  I 
cannot  have  your  company,  and  as  I  think  it  necessary 
you  should  goto  Harrowgate.  On  this  account,  my  Wife 
thinks  she  may  venture  to  stay  here  from  Mrs.  Allen  a 
fortnight  after  I  have  left  London,  which  I  propose  to  do 
the  latter  end  of  next  week.  I  hope  we  shall  meet  how- 
ever this  Summer,  since  it  is  not  thought  Geekie  will  live 
it  over. 


LETTER  CLXXL 

Prior-Park^  June  24?/j,  1765. 

I  RECEIVED  this  morning  the  inclosed  letter  from 
Mr.  Yorke,  together  with  that  of  yours  to  him  of  the 
16th  instant.  Of  yours  I  will  not  say  a  word  to  you  :  for 
that  would  imply  that  even  the  most  kind  thing  was 
capable  of  making  me  love  you  better  than  I  do  already. 
The  inclosed  account  I  believe  to  be  a  true  one,  and  there- 
fore perfectly  satisfactory :  so  that  if  you  have  no  aver- 
sion to  the  thing,  I  beg  you  would  immediately  tell  Mr. 
Yorke  so ;  and  (because  I  know  your  delicacy)  that  I 
have  wrote  you  word  that  his  letter  to  me  gives  me  the 
fullest  satisfaction. 

I  say  if  you  have  no  aversion  to  this  post.  For  I 
think  truly  that  you  would  make  an  ill  exchange  of  ease 
and  happiness  (which  your  unaccountable  virtues  entitle 
you  to,  and  enable  }'ou  to  procure  for  yourself)  for  the 
most  flattering  prospect  of  worldly  emoluments.  I  call 
your  virtues  unaccountable^  as  I  do  the  xvealth  of  our  rich 
rogues,  who  cauponised  X.O  the  Armies  in  Germany  in  this 


269 

liast  war  ;  who  have  raised  our  admiration,  that  they  were 
able  to  plunder  and  pillage  so  mightily  amidst  a  universal 
poverty. 

But  if  you  really  can  accept  this  place  with  case  and 
•satisfaction  to  yourself,  I  foresee  many  advantages  from  it, 
fcoth  to  yourself,  if  Fortune  favours,  and  to  your  Fi  icnds 
in  spite  of  Fortune.  You  will  act  conformably  lo  the 
desires  of  Lord  Mansfield  and  Mr.  Yorke  :  and,  Avhat 
I  am  sure  }'ou  will  not  esteem  the  least,  the  happiness  I 
shall  gain  by  so  much  more  of  your  company  every  ytar. 

I  must  not  forget  to  thank  you  for  your  own  dear  letter 
to  me  of  the  19th. 

When  I  told  my  Wife  you  remembered  her  and  the 
Boy  in  this  letter,  instead  of  making  her  ashamed  of  her 
long  silence  (v/hich  she  confessed  it  ought  to  do,)  she 
triumphed  in  it ;  and  her  pride  dictated  this  reflection 
to  her — that  she  believed  had  Mr.  Mason  been  guilty  of 
so  much  neglect  in  writing  to  you,  you  would  hardly 
have  remembered  him  so  often  as  }  ou  have  done  her  ;  this 
her  pride  (which  I  say  dictated  to  her)  made  her  say 
before  company. 

P.  S.  I  will  make  you  amends  for  so  much  of  my  own, 
with  a  little  of  Pope.  1  he  inclosed  from  Mr. 
Yorke  needs  no  explanation.  The  little  poem  is 
certainly  his.  But  you  see  he  could  not  devest  him- 
self of  that  satiric  force  of  expression,  even  in  his 
tenderest   things — and  where  it  had  least  to  do. 

Stript  to  the  naked  soul — is  so  foreign  to  the  pathetic, 
that  seeing  those  words  alone,  one  would  imagine  my 
eharniing  friend  was  going  to  give  us  an  account  of 
Vulture  Hopkins^  or  Peter  Walter^  just  stept  into  the 
other  world,  and  desperately  surprised  at  their  new 
condition,  to  find  themselves  become  bankrupts,  and 
Stript  of  all :  for  their  soul  still  went  for  nothing. 


270 


VERSES  by  Mr.  POPE, 
On  Di'.  Bolton's  (the  late  Dean  of  Carlisle)  having  written  and  pub- 
lislied  a  paper  to  the  Memory  of  Mis.  Butler,  of  Sussex,    Mo- 
ther to  old  lady  Blount,  of  Twickenliam. 
They  are  supposed  to   be  spoken  by  the  deceased  Lady  to  the   Author  of  that 
paper  which  dreiu  her  character. 
Stript  to  the  naked  soul,  escap'dfrom  clay. 
From  doubis  unfelter'd  and  dissolv'd  in  day ; 
Unwarm'd  by  vanity,  unreach'd  by  strife. 
And  ail  my  hopes  and  fears  thrown  off  with  life  ; 
Why  am  1  charm'dby  Friendsliip's  fond  essays. 
And  tho'  unboiiied,  conscious  of  thy  praise  ? 
Has  pride  a  portion  in  the  prrted  soul  ? 
Does  passion  still  the  formless  mind  control  ? 
Can  gratitude  out-pant  the  silent  breath. 
Or  a  Friend's  sorrow  pierce  tiie  glooms  of  death  i 
No — 'tis  a  spirit's  nobler  taste  of  bliss. 
That  feels  the  worth  it  left,  in  ])roofs  like  this  ; 
That  not  its  own  a])p]au3e  but  thine  approves, 
Wiiose  practice  praises,  and  whose  virtue  loves  ; 
Who  liv'stto  crown  departed  friends  witii  fame  ; 
Then  dying,  late,  shalt  all  thou  gav'st  reclaim. 

Mr.  Popz. 


LETTER  CLXXII. 

Prior- Park,  July  7th,  1765. 

I  HAVE  yours  of  the  1st,  and  am  infinitely  pleased 
that  you  will  accept  the  Preachership. — I  agree  with  you 
in  your  oljservation  of  Mr.  Yorke's  warmth  and  solicitude. 

You  do  well  not  to  lay  aside  your  Harrowgate  journey; 
but  I  should  do  ill  not  to  tell  you  that  the  physical  people 
say  they  are  the  same  with  Cheltenham, om  Visitation-town. 
Both  the  waters  smell  and  taste  like  rotten  eggs.  How- 
ever, if  this  be  so,  I  hope  you  will,  ere  long  have  a  better 
opportunity   of  using  Cheltenham   waters,  and  renewing 


271 

them  commodiously,  as  oft  as  you  please,  if  indeed  they 
be  the  same  with  Harrowgate. 

You  desire,  as  is  fitting,  Mr.  Yorke's  two  Letters  to 
you.  But,  surely,  I  have  only  the  last  you  sent,  which 
I  return  under  this  cover  ;  I  believe  you  will  find  the 
other  returned.  But  perhaps,  by  the  other  Letter,  you 
mean  the  long  one  to  me,  which  you  sent  back,  and  which  is 
properly  a  Letter  to  you,  and  therefore  I  have  sent  it 
you  back,  to  keep  with  the  rest.  Adieu,  my  dearest 
friend,  may  God  preserve  you,  keep  you  in  health,  and  pros- 
per you,  wherever  you  go,  and  return  j^ou  safe  and  sound, 
To  your  most  affectionate,  &c.  &c. 

W.   GLOUCESTER. 
P,  S.   I    believe   Clutterbuck   will  pa}'  you  your  legacy* 

(which  is  now  due)  whenever  ycm  write  to  him. 
Before    I   sealed  the   Letter,  I   luckily    found    the  other 

Letter  to  you. 


LETTER  CLXXIIL 

Prior-Park^  October  ^th^  1765. 

I  HOPE  this  will  find  you  safely  returned.  Your 
picture  is  finished.  Hoare  says  it  is  much  the  best  he  has 
ever  drawn  of  me.  I  have  ordered  it  to  be  sent  to  London 
for  a  frame,  by  Gousset ;  and  he  has  orders  to  send  it  to 
you,  as  you  shall  direct.  I  beg  your  acceptance  of  it, 
though  I  know  you  do  not  want  any  thing  to  put  you  iu 
mind  of  me, 

I  had  forgot  to  mention  what  you  said,  of  retaining  Dr. 
Balguy's  note.  I  think  it  is  right,  for  the  reason  you  give. 

We  have  heard  nothing  of  the  man  from  Wiltshire. 
You  need  make   no  apology  for  your  failing  in  your   and 

*  Of  100/.  left  me  by  Mr.  Allen's  Will.    Jf. 


272 

your  Brother's  (to  whom  my  thanks)  kind  endeavours  ;  for 
we  found  how  difficult  it  was  belore  we  gave  you  this 
trouble.  You  say  nothing  nor  give  me  any  directions 
about  your  legacy. 


LETTER  CLXXIV. 

Prior-Park^  October  9th,  1765. 

I  HAVE  your  kind  Letter  of  the  4th;  and  though  I 
wrote  b_v  line  last  post,  your  friend  would  needs  have  me 
write  by  this,  to  prevent  your  further  trouble  (and  to 
thank  you  for  youi- pasi)  about  a  porter,  she  having  now 
provided  ht- rself. 

I  desire  you  would  use  my  house  in  Grosvenor-square 
till  you  provide  better  for  yourself;  and  that  you  would 
let  me  kn.jw  when  you  propose  being  in  London,  that 
I  may  write  to  the  servant,  to  take  care  of  your  bed,  &c. 

I  hope  the  Preachership  may  be  made  easy  to  you  by 
the  means  I  propose.  You  need  not  doubt  of  your  being 
liked — as  for  your  liking,  when  I  consider  how  easily  you 
accommodate  yourself,  I  do  not  doubt  of  that  neither. 

I  believe  you  will  like  the  picture  :  it  is  really  a  good 
one.  I  had  forgot  to  say  in  my  last,  that  I  had  ordered 
Johnson's  Shakespear  (which  is  on  the  point  of  coming  out) 
to  be  sent  to  you  :  which  I  desire  your  acceptance  of, 
having  subscribed  for  two,  one  for  Mr.  Allen,  and  another 
for  myself. 

I  cordially  wish  Mr.  Mason  all  happiness  in  this  change 
of  his  condition  :  indeed  I  called  it,  I  believe  more  pro- 
perly, exchange.  For  in  our  commerce  with  the  world, 
depending  on  our  connexions,  I  think  there  is  but  one 
where  the  gains  are  clear  and  mutual;  I  leave  you  to  define 
what  connexion  it  is  I  mean. 


273 

My  taylor,  I  believe,  is  as  honest  as  any  taylor  can  be, 
wKq  has  possessions  in  Hell,  and  only  a  precarious  rever- 
sion in  Heaven,  His  name  is  Hall — but  that  he  may  not 
make  you  pay  cent,  per  cent,  for  your  letter  to  him,  I  have 
sent  you  a  frank  for  this  man  of  worship — for  I  think  he 
has  been  Warden  of  his  Company  ere  now. 


LETTER  CLXXV.* 

Prior-Park,  October  3l5?,  ir65o 
I    AM  indebted  to  you  for  two  very  kind  and  amiable 
Letters. 

You  are  in  the  right  of  it ; — what  you  suspect,  Mr. 
Yorke  intends  to  request  of  you.  I  received  a  Letter 
from  him  by  this  post,  in  which  are  these  words  :  It  will 
be  an  election  unanimous.  But,  as  little  attentions  please,  I 
shall  endeavour  to  prevail  upon  him,  -when  I  have  the  plea- 

*  With  this  letter  the  Bishop  inclosed  to  me  the  copy  of  one  to  a  friend, 
in  which  he  gives  the  following  account  of  Dr.  Johnson's  edition  of  Shake- 
spear,  just  then  published. 

"  The  remarks  he  makes  in  everj'  page  on  my  commentaries  are  full  of 
**  insolence  and  malignant  reflections,  which,  had  they  not  in  them  as  much 
"  folly  as  malignity,  I  should  have  had  reason  to  be  offended  with.  As  it  is, 
*'  I  think  myself  obliged  to  him,  in  thus  setting  before  the  public  so  many 
"  of  my  notes,  with  his  remarks  upon  them ;  for  though  I  have  no  great 
"  opinion  of  that  trifling  part  of  the  public,  which  pretends  to  judge  of  this 
"  part  of  literature,  in  which  boys  and  girls  decide,  yet  I  think  nobody  can 
*'  be  mistaken  in  this  comparison  ;  though  I  think  their  thoughts  have  never 
"  yet  extended  thus  far  as  to  reflect,  that  to  discover  the  corruption  in  an  au- 
*'  thor's  text,  and  by  a  happy  sagacity  to  restore  it  to  sense,  is  no  easy  task  : 
"  but  when  the  discovery  is  made,  then  to  cavil  at  the  conjecture,  to  pro- 
*'  pose  an  equivalent,  and  defend  nonsense,  by  producing  out  of  the  thick 
"  darkness  it  occasions,  a  weak  and  faint  glimmering  of  sense  (which  has  been 
"  the  business  of  this  Editor  throughout)  is  the  easiest,  as  well  as  dwllest  »f 
"  all  literary  efforts."     IT 

M  m 


274 

.sure  of  seeing  liiniy  to  mount  thriher  on  Sunday,  as  a  com- 
plvntnt  to  thvvu — I  believe  I  may  be  more  prevalent  with 
you  than  this  great  man,  though  so  much  your  friend, 
when  I  tell  you,  that  in  the  very  selfsame  circumstances, 
I  was  prevailed  upon  by  Lord  Mansfield,  to  mojjnt  timber 
the  Sunday  before  the  election,  as  a  compliment  to  them. — 
Of  this  Johnson)  you  and  I,  I  believe,  think  much 
alike. — Yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CLXXVL 

Prior-Park,  November  lAth,  \7&5. 

I  THINK  you  are  quite  riglit  to  use  your  own  cham- 
bers. The  Benchers,  I  am  sure,  will  be  very  ready  to 
make  anv  improvements  for  your  accommodation  ;  their 
last  Lecturer  who  condescended  to  use  them  being  aJi 
Archbishop. 

Mr.  Yorke  may  be  right  in  your  not  being  too  puncti- 
lious about  Sermons,  at  first.  But  take  care  not  to  accustom 
them  to  works  of  supererogation ;  for,  as  puritanical  as 
they  are,  they  have  a  great  hankering  after  that  Popish 
doctrine. 

All  you  say  about  Lowtirs  Pamphlet,  breathes  the 
purest  spirit  of  friendship.  His  xvit  and  his  reasoning, 
God  knows,  and  I  also,  (us  a  certain  Critic  said  once  in  a 
matter  of  the  like  great  importance,)  are  much  below  the 
qualities  that  deserve  those  names.  But  the  strangest  thing 
of  all,  is  this  man's  boldness  in  publishing  my  Letters 
without  my  leave  or  knowledge.  I  remember,  several 
long  Letters  passed  lietween  us  ;  asid  I  remember  you  saw 
the  Letters.  But  I  have  so  totally  forgot  the  contents, 
that  I  am  at  a  loss  for  the  meaning  of  these  words  of  yours 


275 

— since  they  produced  the  defence  of  pages  117  and  118. 
They  seem  to  relate  to  you  ;  but  that  would  increase  the 
wonder ;  for  what  relates  to  you  is,  I  believe,  the  last 
thing  I  should  forget. 

In  a  word,  you  are  right. — If  he  expected  an  answer, 
he  will  certainly  find  himself  disappointed  :  though  I 
believe  I  could  make  as  good  sport  with  this  Devil  of  a  vice 
for  the  public  diversion,  as  ever  was  made  with  him  in 
the  old  Moralities, 

You  rejoice  us  in  the  hopes  of  soon  seeing  you  here. 
Don't  you  believe,  that  I  think  one  friend  like  you,  in- 
finitely more  than  a  compensation  for  a  thousand  such  ene- 
mies ?  If  you  don't,  you  won't  do  me  justice,  when  you 
do  it  to  all  the  world  besides. 

P.  S.  I  devote  my  Postscript  to  a  better  subject.  Millar 
tells  me,  that  a  new  edition -of  your  Horace  is  gone 
to  the  press. — Apropos^  I  ordered  Millar  to  send  a 
copy  of  my  Alliance  to  Dr.  Balguy,  at  Winchester." 
Perhaps  about  this  time  he  is  coming  to  town, 
or  may  be  gone  to  Cambridge.  You  will  instruct 
Millar  where  to  send  it. 


LETTER  CLXXVII. 

Prior-Park,  November  \Zth,  1765. 

I  THANK  you  for  the  letters.  I  see  that  what  I  said 
of  you  was  so  naturally  and  sincerely  said,  that  it  is  no 
wonder  I  forgot  it. 

But  is  not  this  universally  esteemed  a  dishonourable  con- 
duct, to  publish  a  man's  letters  without  his  knowledge  or 
consent?'  The  absurdity,  too,  is  amazing  to  those  who 
will  attend  to  the  chronology  of  this  aftair.     We  were 


276 

come  to  a  good  understanding ;  and  some  years  afterwards 
he  falls  again  upon  poor  Job,  and  in  an  insulting  manner. 
He  seems  (by  what  you  say)  to  soften  the  meaning  of 
insanus^  which,  indeed,  has  as  much  latitude  as  our  word 
— mad.  But  when  referring  to  a  real  madman^  as  Harduin 
was,  it  can  only  be  understood  in  the  most  offensive  sense. 
— But  I  think  I  see  the  reason  of  the  publication  of  these 
letters  ;  it  was  to  shew  how  he  defied  me,  and  what  a  high 
opinion  I   had  of  him. — But  he  is  below  another  thought. 

We  hope  nothing  will  prevent  the  performance  of  your 
promise.     You  will  let  us  know  when  we  may  expect  you. 

I  am  much  offended  with  Millar,  who  lets  me  hear  no 
news  of  what  has  become  of  the  Alliance^  when  I  expected 
it  to  be  published  ere  now.  When  you  see  little  Birch, 
pray  thank  him  for  his  answer  to  my  letter. 


LETTER  CLXXVIII. 

Prior-Park^  November  2mh,  1765. 
DR.  BALGUY  once  told  me  there  was  one  thing  in 
the  argument  of  the  Divine  Legation,  that  stuck  more 
with  candid  men  than  all  the  rest — Hoxv  a  Religion  with- 
out a  future  state  could  be  xvorthij  of  God.  I  promised  him 
to  consider  it  full}'.  I  have  done  so  in  an  Appendix  to 
the  second  volume  now  in  the  press — no  improper  place, 
just  on  the  entrance  on  the  J^nvish  dispensation.  And  a 
long  passage  of  Voltaire  in  his  Dictionaire  Portative  is 
my  text.  The  discourse  consists  of  three  parts.  First, 
the  objections  of  the  Orthodox  on  this  question.  Second, 
the  objection  of  the  Freethinkers.  Third,  the  solution  of 
the  difficulty  at  large,  on  more  general  principles.  In  the 
first  part,  having  used  the  expression  o{  answerers  by  pro- 
fession^ I  have   addded  this   note  :  "  This  was  a  title  I 


277 

"  ventured  formerly  to  give  to  these  Polemic  Divines ;  and 
*'  the  Dunces  of  that  time  said  I  meant  the  Lawyers.  1 
"  lately  spoke  of  the  keen  atmosphere  of  xvholesome  stveri- 
"  ties;  meaning  the  High-Church /)r/?zcz/?/e  of  persecution^ 
"  disguised  (by  the  professors  of  it  against  Mr.  Locke) 
"  under  the  name  of  ivholesome  severities  ;  and  the  Dunces 
"  of  this  time  say,  I  meant  Winchester  and  Oxford." 
But  I  tire  you  and  mjself ;  and  will  refresh  us  both 
with  the  constant  memory  of  our  friendship,  which  makes 
us  forget  that  Dances  have  ever  been. 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER    CLXXIX. 

April,  1766. 
I  AM  indebted  to  you  for  your  kind  information  of 
having  got  well  home.  Just  when  you  was  gone.  Lord 
Mansfield  sent  to  your  lodgings,  to  invite  you  to  dinner, 
to  meet  me  and  my  Wife.  Of  politics  there  is  neither 
end  nor  measure,  nor  sense,  nor  honesty ;  so  I  shall  say 
nothing.  I  preached  my  Propagation  Sermon  ;  and  ten 
or  a  dozen  Bishops  dined  with  my  Lord  Ma)or,  a  plain 
and  (for  this  year  at  least)  a  munificent  man.  Whether 
I  made  them  wiser  than  ordinary  at  Bow,  I  can't  tell.  I 
certainly  made  them  merrier  than  ordinary  at  the  Mansion- 
house  ;  where  we  were  magnificently  treated.  The  Lord 
Mayor  told  me,  "  the  Common-Council  were  much  obliged 
"  to  me,  for  that  this  was  the  first  time  he  ever  heard  them 
"  prayed  for."  I  said,  "  I  considered  them  as  a  body  who 
"  much  needed  the  prayers  of  the  Church." — But,  if  he 
told  me  in  what  I  abounded,  I  told  him  in  what  I  thought 
he  was  defective — "  that  I  was  greatly  disappointed  to  see 
"  no  Custard  at  table.  "     He  said,  "that  they  had  been  so 


278 

"  ridiculed  for  their  Custard,  that  none  had  ventured  to 
"make  its  appearance  for  manv  years."  1  told  him,"  I 
"  supposed  that  Religion  and  Custard  went  out  of  fashion 
"  together." 

My  Wife,  who  I  need  not  tell  you  holds  you  in  remem- 
brance, has  got  a  slight  fit  ot  the  gout,  which  confines  her. 

P.  S.  To  make  amends  for  a  bad  letter,  I  inclose  a 
Greenland  piece  of  poetry.  You  ma}'  depend  on  its 
being  genuine  :  I  destined  it  for  Mr.  Mason.  There- 
fore when  you  have  done  with  it,  and  find  an  oppor- 
tunity, you  may  send  it  to  him. 


LETTER  CLXXX. 

Prior-Park^  May  19 fh^  1766. 

I  HOPE  this^wlll  find  you  got  back  safe  to  Thurcaston, 
as  we  are  to  Prior-Park.  I  read  over  your  additions, 
and  they  have  all  the  true  mark  upon  them,  that  is, 
excellent. 

Thinking  on  what  we  were  speaking  concerning  the 
Charge,  I  took  it  to  read  ;  for  having  been  so  nauseated 
with  it  by  ten  repetitions,  I  had  thrown  it  by  ever  since, 
and  I  now  like  it  again  as  a  novelty,  and  think  to  print  it  by 
Raikes,  when  we  meet  at  Gloucester.  Two  hundred 
will  be  sufficient  for  all  the  Clergy  ;  and  it  is  only  sending 
them  to  the  Rural  Deans  to  disperse. 


279 


LETTER    CLXXXI. 

Prior-Park,  June  17th,  1766. 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

NESCIOqmd,  certe  est  quod  me  tibi  temperat,  AsTRvyi, 
and  makes  me  always  think  your  advice  the  best.  I  have 
inclosed  half  the  Charge,  and  shall  send  you  the  rest. 
As  perhaps  this  will  excite  as  much  malice  and  nonsense 
against  me,  as  any  thing  I  have  ever  written,  I  beg  you 
would  exert  your  critical  acumen  with  all  severity,  that  it 
may  be  made  as  perfect  as  it  may,  against  we  meet.  Our 
time  holds,  and  the  very  day  you  shall  know.  Adieu, 
my  best  friend, 

W.  GLOUCESTER, 


LETTER  CLXXXIL 

Jlr.  HURD  to    the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER, 

MY    DEAR    LORD, 

I  HAVE  the  favour  of  your  Charge,  which  decies  repe- 
tita placet.  I  am  aware  of  the  obnoxious  passages,  one  of 
which  you  have  a  little  enlarged.  But  you  have  said 
much  the  same  thing  on  other  occasions,  and  the  saying  it 
again  (though  it  vvill  offend)  can  give  no  neiu  offen-'.e. 
Besides,  to  say  the  truth,  it  is  not  for  your  Lordship,  at 
this  time  of  day,  to  affect  the  fame  of  an  inoffensive 
writer?  and  one  may  say  of  this  vixen,  the  public,  as  you 
tell  Lord  Chesterfield  somebody  did  of  Fortune,  that  it  is 
now  too  late  to  think  of  paring  her  nails.  I  find  nothing 
to  correct,  or  so  little,  that  1  shall  reserve  my  puny 
criticisms  for  our  amusement  at  Gloucester. 


280 

I  shall  keep  to  your  day  as  nearly  as  I  can.  My  route 
lies  through  Birmingham,  where  I  shall  stay  some  days 
with  my  Mother :  yet  I  shall  be  with  you,  as  I  suppose, 
by  the  'end  of  the  week,  that  is  Saturday  the  19th.  I 
take  for  granted,  your  Lordship  intends  to  hold  an  ordina- 
tion during  your  residence,  and  that  you  will  give  notice 
of  it  in  the  Gloucester  Journal ;  but  it  may  be  time  enough 
to  do  this,  when  you  get  thither. 

This  bad  weather  is  very  unfavourable  to  the  Epicurean 
enjoyment  of  my  Garden  :  so  I  amuse  myself  as  I  can 
within  doors.  I  have  read  Toup's  new  book.  He  is 
certainly  able  in  his  way  ;  but  I  doubt  he  is  a  coxcomb. 
How  is  it  that  tliere  are  so  many  coxcombs — indeed  so 
many,  that  one  hardly  meets  with  any  thing  else  ?  I  set 
out  in  the  world  with  a  violent  prejudice  in  favour  of  in- 
genious men  :  whether  it  be  wisdom,  or  growing  dulness 
in  me,  I  now  beat  about  for,  and  rarely  find,  a  man  of  plain 
commm  sense. 

I  thank  you  for  Dr.   Balguy's  Letter,  which  I  received 
yesterday  ;  and  am  always, 
My  dear  Lord, 

Your  most  faithful  and 

affectionate  servant, 
R.  KURD. 

Thurcastorif  June  29th,  1 766. 


281 


LETTER  CLXXXIII. 

Prior-Park,  Juhj  8iS,  1766. 

DELAY  no  longer  than  Saturday  :  we  shall  be  there 
on  Thursday.  It  goes  against  my  stomach,  not  to  say 
my  conscience,  to  furnish  our  dear  Mother-Church  with 
such  a  household,  as  are  always  ready  to  obey  her  call. 
But  we  will  have  a  public  invitation,  though  you,  like  the 
steward  in  the  Gospel,  will  be  forced  to  search  the  by- 
lanes  and  highways  for  the  lame  and  the  blind,  to  partake 
of  the  entertainment. 

What  you  say  of  Toup,  is  undoubtedly  true.  But 
Learning  is  so  shamefully  neglected  by  our  Church  Gran- 
dees, that  I  thought  it  useful  to  recommend  it  to  their 
patronage  wherever  it  was  found.  Wherever  Nature  has 
sown  her  coxcomb-seeds,  whether  at  Court,  or  in  the 
Country,  they  will  spring  up  ;  and  the  man  in  the  world, 
and  the  man  out  of  the  world,  who  was  born  with  them, 
will  be  coxcombs  alike,  though  coxcombs  of  very  difi'er- 
ent  species.  However,  this  maxim  is  verified  in  all, 
which  I  think  I  once  laid  down  to  you,  in  applying  it  to 

;  that  Nature  never  ijct  put  one  grain  of  gratitude 

or  generosity  into  the  composition  of  a  coxcomb. 

The  other  day,  I  received  a  letter  from  the  Attorney- 
general,  with  an  account  of  an  agreeable  conversation  he 
had  with  you  in  your  chambers  and  in  the  library  ;  and  of 
the  project  of  a  Dialogue  he  had  for  you.  He  is  a  good 
creature,  as  well  as  a  great  man.  And,  since  I  am  got 
upon  my  own  maxims,  will  give  you  another,  of  which 
you  are  not  courtier  enough  to  adopt  more  tlian  the  first 
half.  "  In  your  commerce  with  the  Great,  if  you  would 
"  have  it  turn  to  your  advantage,  you  should  endeavour, 
"  when  the  person  is  of  great  abilities,  to  make  him  satis 

N  n 


"  fied  with  i/ou :  when  he  is  of  none,  to  make  him  satis- 
"  fied  with  himself:' 

Pray  remember  me  kindly  to  your  Brother  and  good 
Mother.  Tell  her,  if  she  was  a  Court-lady,  1  Avould 
send  her  my  compliments  in  jest :  but,  as  she  is  a  good 
woman,  and  I  a  Father  of  the  Church,  however  unworthy, 
I  will  send  her  my  blessing  in  good  earnest. 

p.  S.  Dr.  Balguy,  in  his  letter,  inquired  about  the  three 
volumes  of  Swift's  Correspondence,  lately  publish- 
ed.* I  told  him,  that  the  first  of  the  three  is  indeed 
full  of  curiosities  ;  the  other  two  full  of  that  most 
detestable  of  all  nonsense,  letters  of  compliments, 
straining  hard  for  wit,  and  saying  trivial  things  in  a 
new,  that  is,  in  an  unnatural  manner. 


LETTER  CLXXXIV. 

Prior- Park^  September  23^,  1766. 
LAST  Saturday,  poor  Mrs.  Allen  died.  As  all  the 
promise  f  you  made  was  to  come  if  you  should  be  at  Glouce- 
ster, or  at  London  ;  and  as  it  was  almost  impracticable 
to  get  you  ;  but  principally  not  to  give  you  the  tedious  and 
ungrateful  trouble  of  so  long  a  journty  ;  we  agreed  it  was 
best  to  confine  ourselves  to  the  terms  of  your  promise, 
especially  as  we  thought  it  would  be  very  disagreeable  to 
you  to  leave  Thurcaston  after  so  long  an  absence.  So 
that  by  the  time  you  receive  this,  the  poor  woman  will  be 

*  By  HaM'keswortli,  in  1*66.  H. 

t  To  perform  the  funeral  service  at  her  interment,  as  I  had  done  at  Mr 
Allen's,  by  her  desire.     H. 


283 

interred. — I  do  not  intend  to  go  to  London,  if  I  can  avoid 
it,  till  after  Christmas. 

I  received  a  few  days  ago  a  letter  from  Mr.  Yorke,  ac- 
i|uainting  me  with  his  intention  of  coming  to  Prior- Park 
the  first  or  second  week  in  October,  though  the  beginning 
of  this  month  I  wrote  him  word  that  Mrs.  Allen  was  dying ; 
so  that  I  was  forced  to  excuse  our  inablity  of  receiving  him 
as  we  ought  at  this  time,  and  to  hope  we  should  see  him 
in  the  Christmas  holydays.  I  could  wish  that  then,  or  be- 
fore, we  might  see  you.  Our  kindest  wishes  attend  you 
wherever  you  are.  Continue  to  love  your  most  affection- 
ate and  entire  friend, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CLXXXV. 

Prior-Parky  October  9thy  1766. 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

WHAT  you  predicted  of  poor  Browne,*  you  hear  is 
come  to  pass. 

All  the  intelligence  that  I  and  Dr.  Balguy  have  had  of 
the  matter,  I  have  here  inclosed  to  you. 

*  Dr.  John  Browne,  whose  unhappy  case  is  here  glanced  at,  has  been 
frequently  mentioned  in  these  Letters.  He  was  the  son  of  a  clergyman  in 
Cumberland,  educated  at  St.  John's  College,  in  Cambridge,  and  afterwards 
%preferred  to  a  small  living  (Lazonby,  I  think)  near  Carlisle. 

He  had  applied  himself  to  poetry,  and  composed  cm  Essay  on  Satire, 
(which  he  published,)  occasioned  by  the  death  of  Mr.  Pope.  This  Essay 
made  him  known  to  Mr.  Warbiirton,  who  introduced  him  to  many  of  his 
friends,  and,  amongst  the  rest,  to  Mr.  Charles  Yorke  ;  by  whose  means  he 
obtained  of  tlie  Lord  Viscount  Itoyston  the  Rectory  of  Horkesley,  near 
Colchester,  worth  near  300/.  a  year.  Tliis  living  he  soon  after  left,  on  a 
quarrel  with  his  patron's  family ;  and  accepted  the  Aicarage  of  New- 
castle, from  the  Bishop  of  Carlisle,  C^^i'-  O?bal(leston,)  whose  chaplain 
he  was. 


J84. 

I  did  him  hurt  in  bringing  him  out  into  the  world,  and 
he  re-warded  me  accordingly-  INIore  words  would  be  now 
lost  upon  him  ;  but  not  more  lost  than  those  which  I  have 
conve^'ed  to  him  by  way  of  advice  from  time  to  time. 

The  ring  mentioned  in  his  Executor's  letter,  I  suppose, 
is  one  I  gave  him,  with  JMr.  Pope's  head.  Continue  to 
love  me,  and  believe  me  ever  yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CLXXXVL 

Prior' Park,  November  6th,  1 766. 

I  HAVE  your  kind  letter  of  the  3d.  It  rejoices  me  to 
understand  that  you  are  in  good  health  ;  and  that,  though 
the  unities  of  time  and  place  are  broken  by  your  chcmg-e 
of  the  scene,  yet  the  unity  of  action  (as  I  am  sure  it  will) 
will  be  always  kept  entire  throughout  your  Drama  of  Life. 

I  make  amends  for  your  absence  by  conversing  with  your 
Works.  And  could  you  read  mine  with  as  much  pleasure, 
as  I  know  you  do  with  more  partiality,  it  would  be  some 
compensation  to  us  both  for  the  distance  into  which  that 
drunken  whore  of  Babylon,  Fortune,  has  thrown  us.  Yet, 
as  profuse  as  she  is  to  those  whom  she  has  in  keeping, 
I  will  sav  with  Tully  and  with  you — "  non  ita  aut  adiilatus 
"  aut  admiratus  fortunam  sum  alterius,  ut  me  me?e  poeni- 
"  terct." 

He  is  known,  as  a  prose  -writer,  by  many  ingenious  works;  the  chief  ot 
wliicli  is,  Esxavs  on  the  Characteristics  of  Lord  Shaftesbvni. 

He  was  a  man  of  honour  and  probity  ;  but  his  judgment,  lying  loo  much 
at  Iht;  mercy  of  a  suspicious  temper,  betrayed  him,  on  some  occasions,  into 
a  conduct,  which  looked  like  unsteadiness,  and  even  ingratitude  towards  his 
best  l"i  icnds.  But,  whatever  there  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  of  this  conii)lexioii 
in  liis  life  oi-  writings,  must  be  imputed  to  the  latent  constitutional  dJ,«;order, 
"hich  ended  so  fatallv.     H 


285 

Cadell  did  write  to  me  about  the  ring  and  packet,  and 
I  have  given  directions.     Perhaps,  if  you  be  not  too  lazy 
you    might    give  me  some   better  account,  than   I   have 
hitherto  had,  of  the   last  scenes  of  this  unhappy  man. 

I  am  glad  you  get  so  much  time  with  our  great  and 
amiable  Friend,  for  both  your  sakes.  You  are  formed  by 
nature  for  his  bosom  ;  your  gentleness  wins,  where  my 
roughness,  I  believe,  revolts  ;  and  it  would  be  a  sincere 
pleasure  to  me  to  see  you  first  in  his  confidence.  I  am 
glad  he  talks  of  seeing  us  at  Christmas  :  and  my  Wife 
charges  me  to  say,  both  for  herself  and  me,  that  we  shall 
be  doubly  happy  in  having  you  both  together  here  at  that 
time,  ir  it  be  not  too  great  an  inconvenience  to  you. 

I  have  been  just  writing  my  Will ;  and  Antichrist^  who 
has  been  long  at  the  head  of  all  mischief,  being  at  the  tail 
of  this,  it  came  into  my  head  to  give  him  the  first  stroke, 
and  to  forestal  my  Preachers.  I  am  preparing  a 
Sermon,  at  his  and  Millar's  expense,  for  the  press  :  and 
then  I  shall  have  but  one  more  to  stand  before  my 
Charge^  and  that  will  be  on  the  Resurrection  ; — if  I  can 
get  two  Lincoln's-Inn  Sermons  on  the  subject  to  cotton 
well  together. 

Dr.  Balguy  dined  with  us  yesterday  ;  and  to-day  leaves 
Bath  for  Winchester,  in  good  health.  He  proposes  to 
visit  Cambridge  the  latter  end  of  next  month,  and  pro- 
poses to  stay  there  till  he  hears  of  your  return  to  London, 
after  Christmas. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  our  friend's  Wife  is  in  so  tolerable 
a  state  as  to  need  nothing  but  a  good  physician  and  a 
London  journey.  Dr.  Balguy  speaks  highly  of  her  beauty 
and  her  taciturnity.  My  Wife  says  the  topics  of  his  enco- 
mium are  ill  coupled  ;  I  say  no  :  and  she,  by  persisting  in 
her  remark,  confirms  me  in  my  opinion. 


286 

Pray  make  my  compliments  to  the  Bench,  and  teli 
them  they  do  me  a  deal  of  honour  in  placing  my  Arms 
(now  indeed         — 

••  Clypei  insigne  decorum,")—— 

amongst  their  Heroes  of  old ;  and  were  it  not  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  some  others  of  more  modern  date,  my  Sara- 
cell's  Hcad^  would  blush  for  me. 

Ralph  is  as  good,  though  not  so  learned,  perhaps,  as 
you  could  wish.  He  is  now  going  upon  Eras?nus^s  Dia- 
logues;  a  book  long  out  of  fashion,  which  yet  I  have 
recommended  to  Mr.  Graves,  as  a  guard  against  too  much 
poetry  within  doors,  and  superstition  without. — But 
apropos  of  Mr.  Graves.  My  Wife  has  let  him  the  great 
house  at  Claverton,  for  which  he  gives  GO/,  a  year  ;  and 
the  great  gallery  library  is  turned  into  a  dormitory  ;  so 
that  where  literature  generally  ends,  it  here  begins. 

Pray  thank  Dr.  Ross  for  his  hospitality  to  me  when  I 
Avas  at  Frome  about  six  weeks  ago.  If  any  thing  in  the 
public,  or  about  the  public,  happens  extraordinary  on  the 
opening  the  Session,  make  an  effort^  which  is  not  easy  for 
you  to  do,  for  it  is  in  sinkings  to  acquaint  me  with  what 
you  hear  of  the  paltry  intrigues  of  Courts  and  Parliaments. 
But,  above  all,  continue  to  love  me,  and  to  believe  that  I  am 
ever,  &c. 


LETTER  CLXXXVH. 

Prior-Park^  November  15th,   1766. 

I  HAVE  your  kind  letter  of  the  11th. 

As  to  Rous'ieau^  I  entirely  agree  with  you,  that  his  long 
letter  to  his  brother  philosopher,  Hume,  shews  him  to  be 
a  frank  lunatic.     His  passion  of  tears — his    suspicion  of 

•  The  crest  of  the  Bishop's  Ai-jns.     7/ 


287 

his  friends  in  the  midst  of  their  service —  and  his  incapa- 
city of  being  set  right,  all  consign  him  to  Monro.  You 
give  the  true  cause  too,  of  this  excess  of  frenzy,  which 
breaks  out  on  all  occasions — the  honest  neglect  of  our  coun- 
trymen in  their  tribute  to  his  importance.  For  all  that 
Hume  says  of  him  on  this  head,  seems  to  be  the  truth ; 
and  as  it  is  a  truth  easily  discoverable  from  his  Writings, 
his  patron  could  have  but  one  motive  in  bringing  him  over 
(for  he  was  under  the  protection  of  Lord  Mareschal,)  and 
that  was  cherishing  a  man  whose  Writings  wei'e  as  mis- 
chievous to  society  as  his  own. 

Walpole's  pleasantry  upon  him  had  baseness  in  its  verv 
conception.  It  was  written  when  the  poor  man  had  deter- 
mined to  seek  an  asylum  in  England;  and  is  therefore 
justly  and  generously  condemned  by  D'Alemtert.  This 
considered,  Hume  failed  both  in  honour  and  friendship, 
not  to  shew  his  dislike  :  which  neglect  seems  to  have  kin- 
dled the  first  spark  of  combustion  in  this  madman's  brain. 
The  merits  of  the  two  philosophers  are  soon  adjusted. 
There  is  an  immense  distance  between  their  natural  genius  ; 
none  at  all  in  their  excessive  vanity  ;  and  much  again  in 
their  good  faith.  Rousseau's  warmth  has  made  him  act 
the  madman  in  his  philosophic  inquiries,  so  that  he  oft 
saw  not  the  mischief  which  Jje  di(i:  Hume's  coldness  made 
him  no<  w»!y  s««,  fcut  r^gkuit  »  §is.  But  it  is  neither  parts 
nor  logic  that  l»as  made  either  of  them  philosophers^  but 
infidelity  only  :  for  which,  to  be  sure,  they  equally  deserve 
a  Pension. — Had  the  givers  considered  the  difference 
between  what  became  them  to  do  in  charity  by  way  oi pro- 
tection^ and  what  became  them  to  do  as  a  reward^  by  wAy 
oi pension^  they  never  had  been  reduced  to  the  low  and 
ignoble  expedient  of  having  what  they  did  kept  a  secret. 
However,  the  contestation  is  very  amusing  ;  and  I  shall  be 
very  sorry  if  it  stops  now  it  is  in  so  good  a  train.  I  should 
be  well  pleased,  particularly,  to  see  so  seraphic  a  mathnan 


288 

attack  so  insufferable  a  coxcomb  as  Walpole  ;  and  I  think 
they  are  only  fit  for  one  another. 

I  could  not  but  laugh  at  your  archness,  in  what  you 
say  about  Antichrist,  You  may  think,  perhaps,  and  not 
amiss,  that  a  Discourse  on  the  great  xohorcy  like  that  on 
the  little  one  in  Terence,  can  be,  at  best,  but  teaching 
the  spiritual  inamorato,  cum  ratione  insanire ;  but  this 
may  be  something  ;  and  not  so  useless  as  Parmeno  thought 
it; — for  the  wja</'zeo A- consult  the  prophet,  VVhiston  :  and 
for  the  reason^  the  interpreter,   Mede. 

The  Dormitory  is  already  filled  ;  but  what  inspirations, 
as  a  library^  it  may  give  to  the  forty  little  sleepers  therein, 
must  be  left  to  time,  which  reveals  all  things. 

As  to  news,  when  you  send  me  any,  I  had  rather  you 
would  consider  yourself  as  my  Purveyor^  than  my  Intel- 
ligencer. It  is  a  kind  of  daih -bread  one  can  bardly  do 
without ;  eaten  to-day  with  appetite,  and  gone,  one  does  not 
care  where,  to  morrow.  I  am  a  great  reader  of  History  j 
but  a  greater  still  of  protessed  Romances  :  so  that  }ou  see 
nothing  comes  amiss  to  a  man  who  consults  his  appetite 
more  than  his  digestion. 

I  suppose  you  have  got  our  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mason, 
to  town,  I  wish  she  may  receive  all  the  benefit  they  pro- 
pose and  hope. 


^»WW 


VJiW-  H^uiKiu/^ 


LETTER  CLXXXVIII. 


Prior-Park,  December  24th,  1766, 
HAVE  your  kind  letter  of  the  18th.  I  make  no  doubt 
but  you  will  give   us  good  lights  in  the    subject  you  men- 
tion— from  what  has  been  said  of  the  tvay  of  information 
by  action. 


289 

I  believe  I  never  told  you  that  Needham's  book  of  Chi 
nese  Characters  being  derived  from  Egyptian,  has  been  sent 
to  China  ;  and  the  following  account  has  been  returned,  that 
the  Mandarins  have  been  shewn  the  characters  on  the 
pretended  Egyptian,  statue,  and  they  can  make  nothing  of 
them  ;  that  thej'  laugh  at  Needham's  fancy  of  their  bor- 
rowing their  Characters  from  Egyptians,  and  confirm  all  I 
say  on  the  subject. — This  Dr.  Markliam  informed  me  of. 
The  Remonstrants  in  Rotterdam  have  translated  my  book 
of  Grace ;  and,  hearing  of  your  defence  against  Leland, 
they  have  wrote  to  me  to  desire  me  to  send  it  to  them 
to  translate — they  are  overrun  with  Methodists  amongst 
the  Anti-Remonstrants. 

Millar  is  here,  and  he  said  you  once  had  a  purpose, 
or  hesitated  at  least,  whether  you  should  not  pass  the 
Christmas  with  us.  This  chagrins  me,  and  angers  your 
Friend,  as  if  I  had  not  properly  pressed  you.  I  Avas 
afraid  of  distressing  you. — You  have  deprived  Mr.  Yorke 
(whom  I  expect  this  night)  and  me  of  much  pleasure. 


LETTER  CLXXXIX. 

Frior-Pariy  jfanuari/  3^/,  1767' 

MR.  Yorke,  who  has  spent  the  holydays  with  me,  has 

just  now  left   me,  to  return  to   the  Bar ;  when  nature, 

virtue,  and  superior  science,  in  any  age  but  this,  would 

have  conducted  their  favourite  pupil  to  the  Bench. 

My  motions  are  immaterial  to  all  but  my  friends  :  I 
therefore  tell  you,  I  do  not  propose  to  go  to  town  till  the 
end  of  January,  or  the   beginning  of  Februarj'. 

To  you  the  compliment  of  a  happy  new  year  is  trash. 
Your  virtues  will  provide  that  for  yourself,  whether  the 
year  prove  stormy  or  serene ;  whether  the  people  con- 
tinue turbulent  in  scarcity,  or  become  wanionK'  dissolved 

(■)  o 


290 

in  plenty  :  for  riotous  or  luxurious  they  will  ever  be  while 
they  have  liberty^  which  they  cannot  enjoy  without  abuse. 
But  it  is  time  to  have  done.     I  am  relapsing   into  the 
odious  disease  of  the  times — Politics. 


LETTER  CXC 

February  i  1767. 

MY    DEAR    FRIEND, 

I  KNEW  you  to  be  a  wise  man  ;  but  not  so  wise  as  I 
find  you ;  and  therefore  two  or  three  days  ago  I  wrote 
you  a  letter,  directed  to  your  chambers  in  Lincoln's-Inn, 
which  I  suppose  they  will  send  you.  You  have  done 
perfectly  right  in  delegating  Lincoln's-Inn,  this  Term,  to 
your  assistant.  Millar  has  just  left  me  ;  and  I  have  or- 
dered him  to  write  to  Cauell,  to  send  you  a  copy  of  the 
Sermons  into  Leicestershire. 

I  shall  put  off  my  journey  to  Gloucester,  and  Visita- 
tion, to  suit  your  leisure.  I  am  now  thinking  more  se- 
riously of  my  last  volume  of  the  Divine  Legation,  and  my 
mornings  at  present  are  amused  with  it.  I  have  given  a 
key  to  some  material  things  in  it,  in  one  of  these  sermons  : 
and  some  dissertations  in  others,  that  will  be  resumed 
when  I  publish  (If  I  live  to  publish  it)  the  last  volume  of 
that  Work.  In  the  mean  tim;^,  nothing  can  do  me  more 
honour  than  what  you  say  ot  your  sermonizing. 

With  regiird  to  the  man}^  Harmonies — I  have  used  none, 
nor  read  any  :  but  I  imagine  that  Le  Clerc's  and  Toinard's 
must  be  the  best  j  the  last  of  which  Mr.  Locke  speaks 
highly  of. 

As  to  our  friend  Balguy,  I  not  long  since  received  a  let- 
ter from  him  from  Cambridge,  where  he  proposed  to  spend 
the  Christmas  with  his  friend,  the  Master  of  St.  John's. 
From  whence,  when  he  heard  that  you  was  come  to  town, 


291 

he  intended  to  go  up,  and  spend  the  rest  of  the  winter 
there  on  a  trial ;  so  that,  if  it  agreed  with  him,  he  would 
spend  every  winter  there.  He  mentioned  nothing  of  the 
state  of  his  heahh,  further  than  what  he  had  told  me  at 
Bath,  at  the  latter  end  of  the  year,  that  he  was  of  late  af- 
flicted with  an  asthma,  and  that  the  air  at  Winchester 
was  too  sharp  for  him. 

P.  S.  In  applauding  j'our  wisdom,  I  forgot  all  my  self- 
ishness. But,  wiiere  a  whole  htter  is  free  from  it,  it 
may  be  allowed  to  appear  in  a  postscript.  Your  absence 
will  be  a  great  mortification,  as  well  as  loss  to  us  both. 


LETTER  CXCI. 

Grosvenor-Squarcy  February  2Qth^  1767. 

I  HAVE  your  kind  Letter  of  the  6th  ;  and  your  flat- 
tery of  me  is  more  delicious  to  me  than  that  of  Courts. 

Lord  Mansfield  called  on  me  as  soon  as  I  came  to 
town.  The  Dedication  was  received  as  you  supposed  it 
would  be. 

I  brought,  as  usual,  a  bad  cold  with  me  to  town  j  and 
this  being  the  first  day  I  ventured  out  of  doors,  it  was 
employed,  as  in  duty  bound,  at  Court,  it  being  a  levee- 
day.  A  buffoon  Lord  in  waiting  (you  may  guess  whom  I 
mean)  was  very  busy  marshaling  the  circle  ;  and  he  said 
to  me  without  ceremony——"  Move  lorward  ;  you  clog  up 
"  the  door-way." — I  replied,  with  as  little,  "  Did  nobody 
"  clog  up  the  King's  door-stead  more  than  /,  there  rvould 
"  be  room  for  all  honest  ivcnJ*^  This  brought  the  man  to 
himself. 

When  the  King  came  up  to  me,  he  asked  "  why  I  did 
"  not  come  to  town  before  .''"  i  saiu,  "  I  understood 
"  there   was  no  business  going  forward  in  the  House,  in 


292 

''  which  1  could  be  of  service  to  his  Majesty."  He  re- 
plied, "  He  supposed  the  severe  storm  of  snow  would 
"  have  brought  me  up."  I  replied,  "  I  was  under  cover  of 
'^'  a  very  warm  house." 

You  see,  by  all  this,  how  unfit  I  am  for  Courts  j  so,  let 
us  leave  them. 

Dr.  Balguy  is  in  town,  and  laments  your  absence. 
INIr.  Mason  called  on  me  the  other  day.  He  is  grown  ex- 
tremely fat,  and  his  wife  extremely  lean — indeed,  in 
the  last  stage  of  a  consuinption.  I  inquired  of  her 
health.  He  said,  she  was  something  better :  and  that,  I 
suppose,  encouraged  him  to  come  out.  But  Dr.  Balguy 
tells  me,  that  Heberden  sa}s  she  is  irretrievably  gone  ; 
and  has  touched  upon  it  to  him,  and  ought  to  do  it  to  her. 
Where  the  terror  of  such  a  sentence  may  impede  the  Doc- 
tor's endeavours  to  save,  the  pronouncing  it  would  be 
very  indiscreet.  But  in  a  consumption  confirmed,  it  is  a 
work  of  charily,  as  the  patient  is  always  deluded  with 
hopes  to  the  very  last  breath. 

Public  matters  grow  worse  and  worse.  When  they  are 
at  the  worst,  they  will  mend  themselves  ;  if  (as  is  the 
fashionable  system)  things  are  left  to  the  care  of  matter 
avid  motion.  JlJotioii  certainly  does  its  part ;  if  there  be 
any   failure,  it  will  be  in  sluggish  matter. 

And  novv,  as  you  say,  let  us  co?7te  to  business.  It  is 
said  that  you  and  I  should  have  no  better  (as  honest  Lopez 
says  in  the  Spanish  Curate) 

"  Than  ringing'  all — in  to  a  rout  of  dunces." 

I  propose  to  have  my  Visitation  between  hay  and  corn 
harvest.  But  my  officers  are  so  ignorant  of  this  proper 
vacancy,  that  I  doubt  we  must  have  recourse  to  your 
Brother  to  acquaint  us  with  the  precise  interval.  I  have 
fixed  on  this  as  most  commodious  to  you:    for  I  suppose 


293 

hay-harvest  will  not  be  quite  ended  in  Gloucestershire  by 
the  8th  of  July.  ^        " 

I  could  not  but  smile  at  your  putting  in  a  caveat  so 
early,  against  our  asking  you  to  return  with  us  to  Prioi'-Park. 
My  Wife  is  well,  and  always  yours.  I  have  left  half  my 
soul  at  Claverton,  in  good  health,  and  in  such  dispositions 
as  I  could  wish.  When  any  thing  befals  me,  I  not  only 
expect  you  should  be  a  Father  to  him,  but  such  a  Father 
as  he  shall  ha  ve  lost. 

My  dearest  Friend , 

ever  yours, 

'  W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CXCIL 

Grosvenor-Square^  March  \9th^  1767. 

AFTER  turning  and  revolving  the  time  of  Visitation 
with  the  parties  concerned  much  in  our  thoughts,  we  could 
fix  upon  none  commodious,  but  to  begin  it  at  Sodbury, 
Monday  the  15th  of  June,  and  so  go  through  as  usual. 
I  hope  this  will  not  disaccommodate  you,  for  you 
may  make  an  ample  compensation  for  Trinity-term,  by 
coming  to  town  a  Sunday  or  iv/o  earlier  than  you  intended, 
and  giving  the  Benchers  a  Sermon  on  Easter-day  and 
Whitsunday. 

I  thank  you  kindly  for  your  affectionate  letter  of  the 
4th,  and  the  tender  sentiments  it  conveys. 

I  forgot  to  tell  you,  that  when  I  cjime  to  town,  Lord 
Mansfield  had  sent  to  your  chambers,  to  invite  you  to 
dinner,  as  he  told  me.  He  has  got  so  entire  a  conquest 
over  his  antagonists,  that  his  glory  is  at  the  highest.  And 
the  house  of  Lords  Avould  not  go  on  to  try  their  appeals 
till  he  could  attend,  after  the  sittings  at  Guildhall. 


294 


LETTER  CXCIII. 

Grosvenor-SquarCy  March  31*?,  1767. 
I  HAVE  your  kind  Letter  of  the  28th.  The  civilities 
you  receive  from  Lincoln's-Inn  makes  you  too  solicitous 
for  their  satisfaction.  I  believe  I  guess  at  your  side  xmnd. 
Some  of  your  female  audience  are  much  taken  with  you ; 
and,  you  know,  such  are  never  for  sparing  the  body  or 
the  brains  of  their  favourites.  This  falls  hard  upon  your 
poor  assistant ;  and,  it  is  your  fault,  who  should  have 
contrived  to  please  less.  But  I  desired  this  sidexvind  to  say 
nothing  of  this  to  you,  and  he  said  he  would  not.  I 
kne.w  your  delicacy  and  complaisance  in  this  matter,  and 
I  saw  no  reason  they  should  be  expended  to  so  little 
purpose. 

If  really  your  assistant  can  give  no  satisfaction  to 
reasonable  people,  I  would  have  you  remove  him ; — so 
much  you  owe  to  a  Society  which  rates  you  so  highly ; 
but  not  till  you  be  -well  assured  of  one  who  will  please 
better.  Then  you  may  contrive  to  do  it  without  offence 
to  the  present  man.     But  this  aifair  will  keep  cold. 

If  you  preach  at  Lincoln's-Inn  from  Easter  Sunday  to 
Whitsunday  inclusively,  you  will  make  ample  recompense 
for  Trinity-term.  But  you  shall  be  absolute  master  of 
your  own  determinations  in  this  matter. 

I  rejoice  that  we  shall  see  you  so  soon  in  town.  I  have 
much  chat  of  various  kinds  to  entertain  you  with ;  but 
nothing  so  pleasing  to  me  as  a  tete  a  tete  with  Lord  and 
Lady  Mansfield  the  other  day.  Speaking  of  you,  he 
said,  "Mr.  Hurd  is  a  great  favourite  of  mv  Lady's  ,•"  she 
replied,  "it  was  very  true;"  and  on  that,  mentioned 
your  manners  and  your  parts  in  the  most  advantageous 
terms.  H^  joined  with  her,  and  then  spoke  of  your 
advancement  in  the  Church?  as  a  thing  he  most  wished.    So 


295 

that  for  the  future  you  must  not  only  call  him  my  friend 
but  yours  likewise. 

I  had  not  seen  poor  Mason  of  some  time ;  and  this 
morning  I  saw  in  the  papers,  that  his  wife  is  just 
now  dead,  at  the  Hot-wells,  at  Bristol.  There  was  no 
hopes  of  her  for  some  time ;  so  that,  the  stroke  not  being 
sudden,  will  I  hope  be  the  less  severely  felt,  after  the 
first  violence  of  the  shock. 

P.  S.  When  Mr.  Yorke  was  with  me  at  Prior-Park,  in 
our  miscellaneous  conversations,  he  mentioned  to  me 
(as  what  I  should  do)  the  collecting  together  the  most 
material  of  my  correspondences  in  the  course  of  many 
years  and  putting  them  in  order  in  a  book.  I  have  gone 
so  far  into  the  project,  as  to  collect  together  what  I  could 
find  of  the  most  considerable;  it  will  cost  me  more 
time,  to  put  them  in  order  of  time.  I  could  have 
wished  for  some  of  my  ansv/ers,  which  would  have 
made  some  of  them  more  intelligible  :  but  as  I  never 
took  any  copies,  but  where  I  was  afraid  of  misrepre- 
sentations, these  were  extremely  rare. 


LETTER  CXCIV. 
Mr.  HURD  to  the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER. 

MY    DEAR    LORD, 

I  WOULD  not  set  out  from  home,  without  send- 
ing one  word  before  me  to  thank  you  for  your  last 
kind  letter,  and  to  tell  you  that  I  hope  to  dine  with  your 
Lordship,  and  Mrs.  Warburton,  on  Easter  Sunday. 

I  had  not  my  intelligence  from  the  quarter  you  suppose, 
which  makes  me  believe  there  may  be  the  more  in  it. 


296 

Your  Lordship  takes  me  for  a  philosopher ;  or  yovi 
would  not  have  tempted  my  vanity,  by  letting  me  know  what 
Lord  and  Lady  Mansfield  do  me  the  honour  to  say  of-me. 

I  most  heartily  approve  Mr.  Yorke's  proposal  about  the 
correspondence.  A  man  of  eminence  owes  it  to  himself, 
to  put  together  all  such  letters  and  papers  as  he  would 
wish  to  have  preserved,  and  to  destroy  the  rest.  There  is 
otherwise  no  security  against  the  folly  or  indiscretion  of 
those,  into  whose  hands  they  may  afterwards  come  :  as  we 
see,  just  now,  in  the  case  of  Swift.  You  cannot  interpose 
too  many  of  your  own  letters,  which  will  make  the  most 
valuable  part  of  the  collection.  But  more  of  this,  by  your 
fire-side  at  Grosvenor-Square. 

MY    DEAR    LORD, 

Your  most  affectionate 

humble  servant, 

R.  KURD. 

Thurcaston,  April  Wth,  1767. 


LETTER  CXCV. 
Mr.  HURD  to  the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER. 

MY    DEAR  LOUD, 

I  FIND  myself  at  leisure  to  recollect  my  promise,  or 
rather  your  kind  injunctions  to  me,  to  write  one  word  from 
this  place. 

The  good  old  womati  your  Lordship  so  oft  inquires 
after,  issuprisingly  well.  Her  decay  is  so  gradual,  that  I 
scarcely  perceive  any  alteration  in  her  health  or  spirits, 
since  I  saw  her  about  this  time  last  year.  She  is  very 
thankful  for  your  obliging  remembrance  of  her,  and  still 
more  for  your  paternal  blessing. 

I  suppose  this  day  will  bring  your  scattered  family  to- 
gether.   If  the  weather  has  been  no  better  in  the  West  than 


297 

it  has  been  here,  Mrs.  Warburton  and  her  fellow  travellers 
would  lose  much  of  the  amusement  they  proposed  to 
themselves  in  returning  by  Mr.  Hoare's.  Howtver  I  hope 
they  are  returned  to  you  safe  and  well,  and  then  they  may 
see  finer  things  at  Prior-Park  than  they  left  behind  them. 
Your  Lordship  is  now  withdrawn  from  the  indolent 
labours  of  Gloucester  to  your  strenuous  occupations  at 
Prior-Park  ;  and  chiefly  to  the  prosecution  of  your  great 
plan,  which,  as  Horace  said  of  another  important  work, 

"  JEqu6  neg\ectum,  fueri's  senibusque  nocebit," 

I  mean,  the  rising  generation  and  the  future  ;  for  as  to 
the  grown  gentlemen  of  the  present  age,  they  must  be  left,  I 
believe,  to  their  own  devices. 

Among  my  other  manifold  defects,  one  is,  that  I 
can  never  do  any  thing  but  at  home  :  and  even  there,  I  do 
so  little  that  a  good  accountant  would  be  apt  to  reckon  it 
for  nothing.  But  if  it  be  only  for  amusement,  I  shall  there 
resume  my  old  task  of  sermonizing  for  Lincoln's- Inn. 
The  best  part  of  my  course,  will  be  an  illustration  of  some 
difficult  and  obnoxious  parts  of  the  Gospel  history  :  for  I 
agree  with  your  Lordship,  that  the  internal  evidence,  if 
one  is  so  happy  as  to  bring  any  of  it  out,  adds  much  to  the 
weight  and  splendour  of  the  external.  You  see  how  mag 
nificently  I  talk  of  my  pulpit  essays  :  but  without  a  little 
self-flattery,  how  should  one  have  the  resolution,  in  such 
a  time  as  this,  to  attempt  any  thing  ? 

Adieu,  my  dear  Lord ;  and  believe  me  always  the  faith- 
ful and  devoted   servant  of  you  and  yours, 

R.  KURD. 
Eirminghamy  Saturdaij^  J^^^U  18M,   1767. 


298 

LETTER  CXCVI. 

Prior-Park,  July  2Bth,  1 767. 

MY    DEAR    MR.  ARCHDEACON, 

FOR  sucli  the  public  papers  (which  mention,  with  one 
consent,  the  death  of  Dr.  Geekie)  invite  me  to  call  you  ; 
though  Pearson's  silence  I  can  account  for  by  nothing  but 
by  his  being  absent  from  London,  or  sick.  However,  a 
])()st  or  two,  I  suppose,  will  free  me  from  all  uncertainty, 
and  make  me  hjppy  in  giving  everj'  public  testimony  of 
my  love  to  the  best  of  friends. 

Toup  has  sent  me  his  Epistola  Critica,  addressed  to 
me.  You  will  be  pleased  with  his  conclusion  :  "  Atque 
'  hie  finem  facio  Epistola  prolixiori  :  in  qua  siquid,  cur- 
"■  rente  lotd,  inconsuhe  aut  intemperanter  nimis,  qui  mos 
"  nostrorum  homiuum  est,  in  Bentieiuni  nostrum  dixi,  id 
*'  omne  pro  indicto  velim  :  Bentleium  inquam,  Britannise 
*'  nostrse  decus  immortale  :  a  cujus  prseceptis,  si  quid  in 
""  Griecis  video,  me  plus  profecisse  quam  ab  omnibus 
"•  omnium  ietatum  Criiicis,  gratus  agnosco  :  quern  nemo 
"  vituperave  ausit,  nisi  fungua ;  nemo  non  laudet,  nisi 
"  Monms:' 


LETTER  CXCVIL 

Prior- Park,  August  6th,  1767. 

I  THANK  }  ou  for  two  favours  since  I  saw  you  last. 
This  morning  I  received  the  inclosed  from  Pearson. 

You  will  see  it  is  of  unavoidable  necessity  that  you  should 
set  out  immediately  for  Prior-Park,  for  I  would  not  make 
so  ill  a  present  to  my  friend  as  of  a  disputable  title. — I  am 


299 

impatient  (as  I  have  told  Pearson)  to  have  the  good  Arch- 
deacon secured  against  the  accidents  of  mortal'itij^  as  well 
as  against  the  chicane  of  laxv  ;  for,  first  or  last,  every 
thing  comes  within  the  jaws  of  those  two  monsters  :  and 
all  the  favours  shewn  to  the  best,  is  to  be  last  swallowed. 
My  wife  bids  me  to  tell  you,  she  was  never  so  well 
reconciled  to  the  Icnv  as  since  now  she  understands  it  will 
force  you  to  Prior-Park. 


LETTER    CXCVIII. 

Prior-Park^  November  10th,  1767* 

I   HAVE  your  kind  letter  of  the  3d. 

I  have  not  seen  the  Dean  since  his  return  ;  and  hope 
I  shall  not,  till  the  elndlition  of  his  German  ferment  be 
well  over  ;  nor  am  I  likely,  for  this  is  the  month  in  which 
the  Dean  and  Chapter  divide  the  spoil :  for  mortey  makes 
all  speculation  subside,  as  grease  does  all  tumult  in  heady 
liquors. 

I  agree  with  you  as  to  the  state  of  the  inferior  Clergy. 
The  Church  enriched  them,  and  forbade  them  to  marry  : 
the  State  impoverished  them,  and  gave  them  wives  to  com- 
plete their  kindness. 

You  are  justly   punished  for  your  curiosity,  that,  when 

would  not  satisfy  you,  you  must  needs  read  Gregory 

the  Great,  Preacher  of  the  Temple.  You  may  well  be  dis- 
gusted with  what  you  have  so  long  had,  without  seeking, 
the  character  of  an  eminent  Preacher :  when  of  the  two 
roads  that  lead  to  it,  you  took  the  round-about  way  of 
reason  and  eloquence,  instead  of  that  shorter  and  more 
direct ;  found  out  by  those  who  only  follow  their  noses 
and  open  their  throats,  without  trusting  to  their  own  sense, 
but  to  the  want  of  it  in  all  besides. 


300 


LETTER  CXCIX. 

Prior- Park^  November  \Bth^  1767. 

MACTE  nova  virtute  tiia !  I  embrace  you  in  fancy, 
crusted  over,  as  you  are,  and  shining  under  a  transparent 
varnish  of  the  richest  antiquarian  dust.  We  are  both  wor- 
shippers and  inamoratos  of  this  Mother  of  the  Gods, 
Antiquity  ;  but  to  the  profane,  we  hide  ourselves  in  mys- 
tery, and  go  invisible,  like  the  German  Rosicrucians. 
Seriousl}^  my  friend,  let  us  finish  this  good  work*  in  ho- 
nour of  Lincoln's-Inn,  At  present  I  suppose  it  is  but  a 
skeleton,  or  a  collection  of  dry  bones,  like  those  of  our 
deceased  Brethren  of  laborious  memory  ;  but  you  will 
give  it  the  Promethean  fire,  at  your  leisure. — Let  Gataker, 
with  his  confutation  of  the  loud  lies  of  Lillie,  never  be 
forgot,   when  you  speak  of  him. 

When  you  see  Dr.  Heberden,  pray  communicate  to  him 
an  unexpected  honour  I  have  lately  received.  The  other 
day,  word  was  brought  me  from  below,  that  one  Sir  Wil- 
liam Browne  sent  up  his  name,  and  should  be  glad  to  kiss 
my  hand.  I  judged  it  to  be  the  famous  Physician,  whom  I 
had  never  seen,  nor  had  the  honour  to  know.  When  I  came 
down  into  the  drawing-room,  I  was  accosted  by  a  little, 
round,  well-fed  gentleman,  with  a  large  muff  in  one  hand, 
a  small  Horace,  open,  in  the  other,  and  a  spying-glass 
dangling  in  a  black  ribbon  at  his  burton. 

After  the  first  salutation,  he  informed  me  that  his  visit 
was  indeed  to  me  ;  but  principally,  and  in  the  first  place, 
to  Prior-Park,  which  had  so  inviting  a  prospect  from  be- 
low ;  and  he  did  not  doubt  but,  on  examination,  it  would 
sufficiently  repay  the  trouble  he  had  given  himself  of 
coming  up  to  it  on  foot.     We  then  took  our  chairs  ;  and 

*  An  account  of  the  Preachers  of  Lincoln's-Inn,  hastily  skctclicd  ou   fo 
jnv  amusement,  but  uever  finished.      J/. 


301 

the  first  thing  he  did  or  said,  was  to  propose  a  doubt  to 
me  concerning  a  passage  in  Horace,  which  all  this  tim  he 
had  still  open  in  his  hand.  Before  I  could  answer,  he 
gave  me  the  solution  of  this  long  misunderstood  passage  : 
and,  in  support  of  his  explanation,  had  the  charity  to  re- 
peat his  own  paraphrase  of  it,  in  English  verse,  just  come 
hot,  as  he  said,  from  the  brain.  When  this  and  chocolate 
were  over,  having  seen  all  he  wanted  of  me,  he  desired 
to  see  something  more  of  the  seat ;  and  particularly  what 
he  called  the  monument^  by  which  I  understood  him  to 
mean,  the  Prior's  tower,  with  your  inscription.  Accord- 
ingly I  ordered  a  servant  to  attend  him  thither  ;  and, 
when  he  had  satisfied  his  curiosity,  either  to  let  him  out 
from  the  park  above  into  the  down,  or  from  the  garden  below 
into  the  road.  Which  he  chose,  I  never  asked  ;  and  so 
this  honourable  visit  ended.  Hereby  you  will  understand 
that  the  design  of  all  this  was,  to  be  admired.  And,  in- 
deed, he  had  my  admiration  to  the  full  ;  but  for  nothing 
so  much,  as  for  his  being  able,  at  past  eighty,  to  perform 
this  expedition  on  foot,  in  no  good  weather,  and  with  all 
the  alacrity  of  a  boy,  both  in  body  and  mind. 

The  malady  amongst  the  horses  is  now  so  universal,  that 
the  Ministry  will  find  it  difficult  to  get  up  their  distant 
members.  In  this  distress  they  may  apply,  as  they  have 
always  done,  to  the  assistance  of  asses.  You  who  are 
wont  to  laugh  at  human  distresses,  when  occasioned  by- 
vice  or  tolly,  should  you  not  burst  your  sides  on  seeing 
a  Cornish  or  a  Scotch  inember,  impatiently  dragging  him- 
self through  all  incumbrances,  in  a  post-chaise,  with  a 
cortege  of  four  or  six  asses  ? — Before  the  sessions  be  over, 
I  will  lay  my  life,  )  ou  will  see  greater  and  more  ridiculous 
distresses.  But  what  is  this  to  you,  who  have  the  force 
and  skill, 

"  munita  tenere 

"  Editadoctrina  sapienttim  templa  serena  ; 

'•  Despiceie  unde  qiieas  alios  passimque  videre 

"  EiTare  atque  viam  palanteis  qusevere  vits" 


302 

My  rheumatic  shoulder  has  submitted  for  a  time,  though 
to  a  good  deal  of  physical  discipline.  I  have  at  present 
a  kind  of  infl.immaiion  in  my  left  eye  ;  I  suppose  from  a 
cold,  and  have  as  many  remedies  proposed  as  visitors. 

You  know  you  are  an  oracle  to  my  Wife,  and  some- 
thing more  to  me.  But  she  says  you  are  as  short,  and 
sometimes  as  obscure,  as  she  has  been  told  the  oracles  of 
old  were,  whenever  you  speak  of  news,  or  of  chit  chat, 
or  of  any  thing  within  her  compass  ;  witness,  she  says, 
the  three  or  four  words  you  barely  afforded  for  your  din- 
ner with  our  friends  in  B.  S.  And  as  a  further  instance 
of  your  absence  in  such  like  articles,  she  observes,  you 
have  put  G.  S.  for  B.  S.  which,  however,  when  she  cools, 
she  turns  to  a  compliment  on  herself,  as  if  G.  S.  was 
stronger  engraved  on  your  fancy  than  B.  S. 


LETTER  CC. 

Prior- Park^  December  10th,  1767. 
YOUR  conviction  always  convinces  me.  I  had  a  pre- 
face to  the  collection,*  which  may  serve  for  some  other 
occasion  :  in  which  I  take  notice  how  our  philosophers 
had  of  late  shifted  their  ground,  and  removed  into  more 
fashionable  quarters.  They  had  long  intrenched  them- 
selves in,  and  attacked  us  from,  the  fastnesses  of  philosophy 
and  theology  ;  in  which  their  dulness  had  so  far  got  the 
upper  hand  of  their  impiety,  that  they  had  tired  out  even 
their  allies,  the  great ;  to  whom,  besides,  philosophy  was 

*  Of  obseri'dtiom  on  Voltaire's  ij;i>orniil  and  niali<:nant  ccnsiu-es  of  the 
Jewish  law  and  history.  The  Uishop  had  goiio  some  way  in  mcthoihzing 
those  observations  for  public  view,  but  was  prevailed  upon  by  nie  to  drop  the 
<1esi|?n.    See  Life,  p.  123,  l'i4.    H. 


303 

too  crabbed,  and  theology  too  unconcerning.  Their  learn- 
ing lay  in  history,  extracts  of  which,  under  the  names  of 
summaries  2ind  ge7ic'rcil  hhtories^  are  the  most  entertaining, 
as  well  as  most  efficacious  vehicle  of  iaipieiy  :  for  the 
miseries  and  disorders  of  human  life,  seen  in  their  utmost 
malignity  in  civil  transactions,  aid  these  philosophers  in 
supplying  those  prejudices  against  Revelation,  which  their 
malice  long  sought,  and  their  reasonings  much  wanted. 
Their  readers  had  heard  that  the  Founder  of  Christianity 
promised  pt-ace  on  earth,  and  good-will  to  mankind ;  and 
they"  saw  the  same  train  of  miseries  triumphant  after,  as 
before,  the  pu-blication  of  the  faith.  And  Divines  of  ail 
denominations  preaching  this  reform  of  morals  as  the  great 
end  of  Christianity,  and  they  seeing  this  end  not  obtained, 
they  became  an  easy  prey  to  these  philosophical  historians. 
Had  Divines  taught  them  the  true  and  proper  and  peculiar 
end  of  this  Revelation,  they  would  then  have  seen  that 
universal  history  afforded  the  most  legitimate  prejudice  in 
favour  of  Christianity  ;  and  this  new  cookery  had  been  the 
very  worst  vehicle  for  these  public  poisoners,  &c.  But 
they  received  many  other  advantages  in  thus  changing  the 
method  of  their  attack,  such  as,  &c.  &c. 
But  I  am  tired,  and  shall  tire  you. 
My  dearest  Friend, 

ever  yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCI. 

Prior-Park^  Januarij  23^,  ir68. 

SINCE  you  left  us,  I  have  had  a  violent  return  of  my 

disorder,  not  likely  to  be  removed  without  the  assistance 

of  Dr.  Charlton,  which  I  have  had  for  some  days.     We 


304 

hope  we  have  conquered  it ;  but  it  has  left  us  both  in  some 
doubt  whether  it  was  the  stone  or  gravel,  or  an  attack  of 
that  epidemic  disorder  which,  here,  spares  nobody,  and 
appears  in  all  kind  of  shapes.  It  has  left  me,  as  it  does 
others,  very  low-spirited,  which  I  bear  (as  I  do  all  the 
other  evils  of  life)  as  well  as  I  can. 

I  agree  to  every  thing  in  Mr.  Yorke's  kind  letter  ;  and 
so,  by  this  post,  I  have  wrote  him  word,  and  desire  that 
every  thing  may  be  expedited  and  completed,  just  as  he 
and  you  shall  conclude  on.  Remember  me  kindly  to  our 
friend,  your  brother  Archdeacon.  He  is  a  rake,  when 
compared  to  such  a  prude  as  you  are.  For  your  virtues, 
you  should  be  always  yoked  together  in  friendship  ;  just 
as,  for  their  sins,  those  two  characters  generally  are  in 
matrimony. 

P.  S.  I  had  almost  forgot  to  tell  you  that  Lord  Lyttelton 
has  wrote  me  a  very  polite  Letter,  informing  me  that 
he  has  sent  me  his  History  by  the  Bath  coach. 


LETTER  CCIL 

Prior-Park^  February  24M,  1768. 

I  AM  glad  to  understand  by  yours  of  the  19th,  that 
Thurcaston  promises  to  set  you  right  in  your  health. 

I  do  intend  to  write  to  the  two  Chiefs  in  a  little  time. 
Instead  of  400/.  1  have  destined  500/.  for  this  business  ; 
thinking,  on  reflection,  that  400/.  would  be  too  scanty  for 
the  purpose.  The  500/.  being  in  4  per  cent,  annuities, 
will  always  bear  that  interest.  The  course  four  years,  if 
three  Sermons  a  year  ;  or  three  years,  if  four  Sermons. 
So  much  for  ;hat  matter  at  present.  1  hope,  that  not  only 
my  Lecture,  but  yourself,  will  be  benefited,  in  reputation 


305 

at  least,  by  its  commencing  with  you.  Nor  will  you  be 
hurried  ;  for,  at  soonest,  it  will  not  begin  till  after  the 
next  long  vacation,  or  with  the  new  year. 

You  talk  (and  well)  of  your  golden  age  of  stiuhj^  lon^; 
past.  For  myself,  I  can  only  say,  I  liave  the  same  appe- 
tite for  knowledge  and  learned  converse,  I  ever  had ; 
though  not  the  same  appetite  for  writing  and  printing.  It 
is  time  to  begin  to  live  for  myself;  I  have  lived  for  others 
longer  than  they  have  deserved  me.  I  have  had  from 
Dr.  Balguy  a  curious  letter  of  what  passed  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  on  Sir  George  Savile's  motion  for  bringing 
in  his  Bill  for  limiting  the  rights  of  the  Croun,  by  pre- 
scription. He  was  supported  admirably  well  by  our  friend, 
who,  mentioning  the  case  of  the  Duke  of  Portland,  (in- 
deed the  occasion  of  the  motion,)  was  answered,  as  to 
that  point,  by  Norton,  with  a  challenge  to  debate  it  then, 
or  elsewhere  ;  and,  in  a  manner,  according  to  his  wont, 
a  little  brutally,  though  of  the  same  side,  as  to  the  main 
question  of  subjecting  the  Crown  to  the  prescriptive  laws 
of  society.  The  truth  was,  that  Norton,  when  Attorney- 
General,  had  approved  of,  and  advised,  the  Court  mea- 
sure against  the  Duke  of  Portland.  The  Opposition  lost 
the  motion,  but  by  a  very  small  majorit)'  of  1 34  against  1 14. 

Two  or  three  posts  ago  I  received  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Yorke,  in  which  are  these  words  :  "  Mr.  Hurd  is  retiring 
*'  to  his  hermitage, till  Easter  Term:  Mrs.  Yorke  is  become 
"  an  attentive  and  admiring  hearer  of  him.  Her  good 
"  works  must  supply  my  defects."  As  vours  now  supply 
mine  in  that  place. 


306 


LETTER  CCIII. 

Prior-Park,  31arch  31.y?,  1768. 
DID  not  I  hope  and  believe  that  a  hurt  imagination 
guided  your  pen  in  the  beginningof  your  letter  oi  the  26th, 
you  would  make  me  very  unhappy.  But  I  consider  this  month 
and  this  season  as  the  most  unfriendly  to  the  health  of 
mind  and  body,  of  any  throughout  the  whole  year.  But 
do  not  deprive  me  of  all  comfort,  when  public  matters  seem 
to  be  grown  desperate,  and  Government  is  dissolving  apace. 
I  always  thought  Wilkes  possessed  by  a  diabolical  spirit  ; 
but  now  a  legion  of  them  have  possessed  the  people.  The 
wise  counsellors  of  Pharaoh  are  become  foolish.  Either 
they  have  lost  all  sense  of  right  and  wrong,  or  have  no 
power  to  make  a  separation  between  them,  and  assign  to 
each  its  due.  Things  are  now  come  to  a  crisis,  and  per- 
haps must  be  worse  before  they  can  be  better.  One  of  the 
drama,  in  a  play  of  Navius,  asks — 

"  Cedd  qui  vestram  rempublicam  tantam  amisistis  tarn  citor" 

The  other  answers, 

"  Proveniebant  ora tores  ne/vi,  stulti,  adolescoituli-" 

This  has  at  length  encouraged  a  desperate  cut-throat  Out- 
law, openly  to  insult  the  constitution,  and  stab  it  in  its  vitals. 
I  lately  received  a  letter  from  our  Friend  about  the  proper 
title  of  the  Lecture.  I  sent  him  my  thoughts;  and  the 
inclosed  is  his  answer.  I  think  I  told  you,  I  wrote  to 
Lord  Mansfield,  acquainting  him  with  my  purpose.  I 
have  inclosed  his  answer  likewise,  for  your  amusement : 
for  you  certainly  want  amusement  much,  of  some  kind  qp 
pther» 


307 

Concerning  my  own  health,  as  a  matter  of  the  least  con- 
sequence, I  put  it  last.     My  winter  has  been  more  un- 
comfortable, by  interrupted  health,  than  usual.    I  have  had 
two  fits  of  a  disorder  with  all  the  symptoms  of  the  gravel, 
except  the  not  voiding  any.     After  the  first,  as  there  had 
been  an  intermission  often  years,  I  was  in  hopes  of  another 
considerable  respite.    But  it  returned  in  a  few  weeks,  and 
was  subdued   by   the   same    discipline.     We  are  a  little 
doubtful  of  the  true  cause,  except  that  the  gall-bladder  had 
a  considerable  share   in  the    disorder.     By   Charlton's  di- 
rection, I  am  now   drinkmg  of  a  German   spring,  called 
the  Seltzer  waters^  pretty  much  of  the  taste  oi  Spa  zvaters^ 
with  a  brackish  addition.     You  must  understand  that  this 
water  is  but  just  come  into  fashion,  yet  thought  fit  to  be 
imposed  on  the  most  unfashionable  of  mankind. — The  Col- 
lege  of  Physicians  have   lately  set  up  a  kind  of  Physical 
Transaction^  in  which  I  read  with  much  pleasure,  a  dis- 
course of  Dr.  Heberden,  on  common,  or  drinking  water, 
for  it  has  relieved  me  from  an  apprehension  that  our  water, 
which  runs   over  a  lime-stone,  and  has,  on  boiling,  a  large 
sediment  of  white  sand,  was  bad  for  gravelly  complaints^ 


LETTER  CCIV. 

Prior- Park,  July  5th,   1768: 

MY    DEAREST    DOCTOR, 

I  HOPE  this  will  find  3  ou  well  come  home,  after  the 
honour  you  have  given  to,  and  the  honour  you  have  re- 
ceived Irom,  your  University. 

Since  your  last,  my  correspondence  with  Mr.  Yorke 
has  been  frequent.  In  his  letter  of  the  27th  past,  speak- 
ing of  you,  and  saying,  Mr.  Hurcl  has  left  us;  we  talk 
often  afid  jnuch  of  your  Lordship.     He  has  §ivcn  me  vwre 


308 

phanuie^  Sec.  &c.  gave  me  occasion  in  my  answer  to  write 
thus  :  "■  I'he  most  considerable  part  of  the  small  merit  I 
"  can  pretend  to  with  you,  is  bringing  to  your  knowledge,  and 
"■  under  your  patronage,  a  man  so  worthy  of  your  friend- 
"  ship  as  Mr.  Hurd.  If  friendship  be  the  most  cordial 
"viaticum  of  life,  you  have  the  largest  provision  of  it 
"  in  this  man.  His  nature  is  fidelity  :  and  iiis  admiration 
••'  of  your  virtues  will  make  his  Zealand  attachment  to  your 
"  service,  as  unremitting  as  his  fidelity  :  and  both  con- 
"  ducted  with  such  superior  sense  and  discretion  as  will 
"  make  that  service  acceptable,  and  never  a  burthen  on  his 
"  protector." 

This  morning  I  received  an  answer,  in  which  are 
these  words :  "  Mr.  Hard  is  gone  to  Cambridge  for  his 
"  Doctorate.  I  subscribe  to  every  word  you  say  of  him^^ 
In  this  letter  he  tells  me  that  Pickering  will  send  the  deeds 
lor  me  (as  this  day)  to  sign,  with  the  letter  of  attorney  to 
transfer  the  stock  to  the  trustees. 

By  the  same  post  poor  Sparkes  writes  thus  from  Glouce- 
ster. "  July  \st^  Dr.  Atxvell  was  taken  ill  in  a  very  violent 
"  manner  on  Tuesday  last^  and  still  continues  almost  insen- 
"  sible.     It  is  generally  believed  he  cannot  recover.''^ 

Mason,  when  he  was  here,  recommended  to  me  as  a 
very  curious  thing,  La  vie  de  Fr.  Petrarqiie^  in  three  large 
volumes,  Ato.  As  I  supposed  I  had  his  and  Gray's  opi- 
nion both  in  one,  I  sent  for  the  book,  and  was  not  disap- 
pointed. Curipsity  gave  me  courage  to  read  them  through. 
And  I  found  that  the  author,  by  interweaving  into  the 
Hie  the  History  of  Italy,  civil,  ecclesiastical,  and  literary, 
for  the  first  half  of  the  14th  Century,  has  afforded  us  a 
thousand  entertaining,  and  though  trifling,  yet  curious, 
anecdotes  of  things  and  p^-rsons,  during  that  period. 
Amongst  which,  those  tliat  more  immediately  relate  to 
the  hero  of  the  story,  are  not  the  least  entertaining  part. 
Amongst  other  things,  you  will  find  that  Petrarch  and  his 


309 

correspondents  as  frequently  call  the  residence  of  the 
Popes — Babylon,  as  any  Protestant  reformer  has  done 
since. 


LETTER  CCV. 

Prior-Park,  Juhj  eth,  1768. 
REJOICE  with  me,  my  dearest  friend,  though  you 
sacrifice  your  own  ease  to  the  occasion,  that  on  J  uly  5th, 
1768,  I  executed  the  deeds  and  writing,  necessary  for 
the  establishment  of  my  Lecture,  which  is  now  in  its 
infant  state,  iti  esse,  and  will,  I  hope,  be  able  to  speak  for 
itself,  and  eloquently  too,  by  the  27th  of  next  November. 


LETTER  CCVL 

Dr.  HURD  to  the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER. 

Thurcaston,  July  18th,  1768. 

I  WAS  extremely  happy,  my  dear  Lord,  to  find  three 
of  your  kind  letters,  on  my  return  to  this  place.  I  shall 
take  them  in  the  order  of  their  dates. 

That  of  the  5th,  which  contains  the  transcript  to  Mr. 
Yorke,  has  so  much  of  yourself  in  every  word,  that  I  can- 
not but  be  tenderly  affected  by  it.  Your  Lordship  knows 
how  to  work  up  an  ideal  picture  in  such  a  way  as  is  likely  to 
make  it  very  acceptable  to  the  party  to  whom  it  was  pre- 
sented. 

I  am  glad  to  find  that  the  Life  of  Petrarch  did  not  dis- 
appoint your  expectations.  I  must,  at  my  leisure,  look 
over  these  three  volumes. 


310 

Your  short  note  of  the  6th,  calls  upon  me  to  wish  you 
joy  of  having  put  the  last  hand  to  your  generous  and  pious 
donation.  Mr  Yorke,  I  suppose,  will  soon  notify  to  me 
my  appointment  to  be  your  first  Preacher.  'Tis  tiue,  as 
you  sa}',  7ny  07v?i  ease  zuill  he  sacrificed  to  the  occasion ; 
but  that  sacrifice  would  be  well  made,  if  I  could  hope  to 
answer  your  design  in  any  tolerable  degree,  and  to  sup- 
port the  honour  of  your  Lecture  ;  which  last  will  very 
much  depend  on  this  first  essay.  I  can  only  assure  you  of 
my  best  endeavours  to  do  both.  I  think  I  may  promise 
not  to  disgrace  your  Institution  by  any  extravagancies  at 
setting  out ;  and  this  caution,  on  such  a  subject,  and.  in 
such  times,  may  not  be  without  its  merit. 

I  now  come  to  your  favour  of  the  lOch.  The  compli- 
ment from  the  (Jniversity  to  our  friend  was  out  of  the 
common  forms  :  but  his  services  to  the  body  have  been 
uncommonly  great,  and  the  sweetness  of  his  manners 
makes  him  very  popular. 

Little  Wat  was  sent  back  without  a  degree.  The  Pro- 
fessor advised  him  to  try  his  fortune  again  at  Oxford, 
rather  than  return  to  Cambridge,  as  he  talked  of  doing 
next  Term.  He  even  told  him,  that  success  at  Cambridge 
would  not  wipe  off  the  dishonour  of  this  rejection  by  his 
own  University.  The  advice  was  good  ;  but  the  keen  at- 
mosphere of  Oxford  may  not  agree  with  his  constitution. 
It  is  well,  if  he  has  no  better  reason  for  taking  this  degree, 
than  one  of  the  half  dozen  pleasant  ones  you  invent  for 
him.  I  think  it  certain,  the  two  Sisters  will  act  in  concert 
on  this  occasion. 

Poor  Dr.  At  well's  death  throws  a  good  living  into  the 
hands  of  Mr.  Mason,  (for  his  late  curate,  Upton,  told  me 
it  was  capable  of  great  improvement,)^  and  will,  I  hope, 
restore  peace  to  the  Chapter  of  Gloucester.  He  was  a 
man  of  sense  and  learning  ;  but  had  a  turn  of  mind  too 
busy,  and  a  temper  too  acrimonious,    for  his  own  ease,  or 


'      311 

that  of  others,  with  whom  he  had  any  near  connexion. — 
Whom  does  your  Lordship  think  of  making  Rural  Dean 
in  Stow  Deanery  ? 

I  thank  you,  my  dear  Lord,  for  your  congratulations  on 
my  advancement  to  the  Doctorate  ;  though  I  doubt  h  will 
seem  a  little  incongruous  in  me  to  combat  the  scarlet 
whore  in  her  own  vestment.  This  did  not  Joseph  Mede  ; 
who  should  have  been  my  example  in  every  thing.  But 
yourLordship  is  too  reasonable  to  expect  either  the  talents 
or  the  modesty  of  that  iniconiparablf  man,  in  yoyxr  little 
adventurer  against  Babylon.  After  all,  if  I  am  defective 
in  this  quality,  you  must,  in  part,  ascribe  it  to  yourself, 
who  have  contributed  so  much  to  make  me  vainer  than  I 
ought  to  be  :  witness  what  you  say  of  your  portico-read- 
ing, in  the  close  of  this  letter,  which  I  am  now  answering. 
But  you  suffer  I  doubt,  for  your  complaisance  ;  for  was 
not  the  rheumatic  pain  you  complain  of,  the  fruit  of  re- 
galing over  my  Anti-Leland  in  fresco  ? 

Accept  my  best  wishes  for  yourself,  and  for  those  who 
are  so  dear  to  you  at  Prior-Park  and  at  Claverton ;  and 
believe  me  to  have  the  fdelity  you  so  kindly  ascribe  to 

your  ever  affectionate 

R.  HURD, 


LETTER  CCVIL 

Prior-Park,  Aug-ust  20t/i,  176S. 

MY   DEAREST  FRIEND, 

WHEN  you  wrote  the  letter,  to  which  the  inclosed  is 
an  answer,  you  had  not  received  my  last  letter  to  you. 

I  have  inclosed  a  sheet  of  what  I  am  now  upon.  When 
you  have  read  it,  pray  send  it  back  ;  and  let  me  know 
whether  you  understand  one  word  of  what   I  drive  at — ■ 


312      ^ 

I  know  your  sagacity;  but  you  must  almost  conjure  to 
comprehend  it.  However,  if  you  can  guess  at  it,  I  shall 
have  a  better  opinion  of  the  solidity  of  my  scheme. 

W.  GLOUCESTER, 


LETTER  CCVin. 

Prior-Park^  August  31*^  1768. 

I  SEE  you  understand  the  paper  excellently — I  do  not 
wonder  you  stuck  at  a  claim  of  right  to  rexvard  by  Natu- 
ral Religion.  Divines  generally  hold  otherwise,  and 
therefore,  they  have  endeavoured  to  shew  the  use  of 
Revelation,  which  assures  us  that  God  will  receive  repent- 
ant sinners.  And  yet,  many  of  those  passages  in  Scrip- 
ture declare  this  truth  on  the  principles  of  Natural 
Religion;  such  as  this — he  tvho  comes  to  God 'must  believe 
that  he  is,  and  that  he  is  a  Rewarder  of  thon  who 
diligently  seek  him.  Now  what  natural  religion  plainly 
teacheth,  either  by  natural  reason,  or  by  inspired  writers, 
concerning  rezvird,  I  call  a  claim.,  in  opposition 
to  a  grace — I  mean  by  rewards  (in  the  state  of  an  unequal 
providence^  rewards /zcre^z/itT.  As  to  our  knowing  so /V/^/e 
of  divine  governynent — I  have  observed  somewhere,  I  think 
against  Bolingbroke,  and  given  the  reasons  of  the  observa- 
tion, that  in  God's  physical  government,  his  decrees  may 
be  differently  regulated  by  there  being  one  or  more  systems 
to  superintend — but  that  in  his  moral  government,  his 
decrees  are  regulated  alike,  whether  there  be  one  or  more 
orders  of  rational  beings — so  that  the  knowing  much  or 
little  of  the  moral  government  of  God,  does  not  differ- 
ently affect  our  conclusions. 

I  looked  over  my  papers  to  see  if  I  could  explain  the 
matters  in  another  sheet,  which  I    would   have   inclosed. 


313 

But,  happily  for  you,  the  parts  of  the  argument  are  so 
enchained  with  one  another,  that  not  less  than  ten  sheets 
would  have  satisfied  (if  tliat  did)  one  so  penetrating  and 
accurate  as  yourself. 

We  think  so  much  alike  in  every  thing,  that  the  Bench 
to  me  is  only  a  wooden  Bench  ;  and  as  to  the  House  itself, 
I  am  every  now  and  then  ready  to  say, 

"  Splendida  nobilium  decreta  valete  Sophorum." 

The  inclosed  will  occasion  many  various  sentiments  in 
you.  I  wish,  with  you,  success  to  the  Bishop  of  Bristol, 
though  he  played  the  fool  in  the  affair  you  mention.  But 
that  will  not  hinder  his  exchanging  his  rectory  for  a 
deanery.  The  matter  indeed  seems  to  stick  ;  but  as  his 
Residentiaryship  (half  the  deanship)  is  said  to  be  destined 
for  Dr.  Egerton's  commendam^  I  suppose  it  will  not  stick 
long. 

I  think  I  see  a  letter  lie,  which  I  am  to  frank  for  my 
Wife,  by  this  post,,  witn  my  own.  However  various  may 
be  the  contents,  our  love  lo  the  Archdeacon  is  equally 
fervent  and  the  same,  which  is  not  the  commonest  thing 
in  matrimonial  logic :  I  mean,  a  perfect  agreement  in 
eodetn  tertio.  Here  it  is ;  and  therefore  there  must  be 
something  alike  between  the  two,  notwithstanding  the 
difference  of  sex,  temper,  and  time  of  life. 

P.  S.  I  should  have  hinted  to  you  in  my  last,  when  I  sent 
the  inclosed  sheet,  that  it  aimed  to  confute  the 
triumphant  reasoning-  of  unbelievers,  particularly 
Tindal,  who  say  redemption  is  a  fable  :  for  the  only 
means  of  regaining  Go^Vs  J'uvour^  which  they  eter- 
nally confound  with  immortalitij^  is  that  simple  one 
which  Natural  K(ibgion  teaches,  viz.  repentance. 
Rr 


314 

To  confute  this,  it  was  necessary  to  shew  that  resto- 
ration to  a  free  gft^  and  the  recovery  of  a  daim^ 
were  two  different  things.  The  common  answer  was 
that  Nrttiiral  Religion  does  not  teach  reconciliation 
on  repentance  ;  which  if  it  doth  not,  it  teaches  no- 
thing, or  something  worse  than  nothing. 


LETTER  CCIX. 

Dr.  HURD  to  the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER. 

I  HAVE  yop.r  Lordship's  kind  letter  of  the  lOtb. — I 
believe  repose  %vill  be  thought  more  proper  tor  me  than  a 
journey.  It  will  take  some  time  before  the  sinus  is  per- 
fectly healed  and  closed  :  but  the  cure  is  out  of  all  doubt, 
and  is  obstructed  by  no  bad  circumstance  whatsoever. 

Your  Lordship  and  Mrs.  Warburton  are  very  good  to 
feel  so  tenderly  for  me..  It  was  a  happiness  to  myself, 
as  well  as  you,  that  you  did  not  know  the  worst  of  the 
case,  till  it  was  over.  But  you  must  not  say  a  word 
of  expense,  which  is  altogether  trifling.  You  forget,  my 
dear  Lord,  that  you  have  made  me  rich,  and  that  my 
generous  physician  will  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  take 
any  thing.  So  that  I  shall  have  only  my  Surgeon  and 
apothecary  to  pay,  who  are  more  reasonable,  thoiJgh  not 
less  skilful,  than  Channing  and  Ranbv.  By  the  way,  I 
am  much  taken  with  my  surgeon,  Mr.  Pott.  He  is  a 
lively,  well  conditioned,  sensible  man.  He  is,  besides, 
u  writer  of  eminence  in  his  profession.  I  have  just  now 
read  a  Treatise  of  his  on  mj- own  case;  from  which  I 
learn  tluu  he  has  invented,  or,  at  least,  brought  into  more 
general  use,  a  new  method  of  treating  this  disorder, 
infinitely   more   expeditious,    more  safe,  and    mor^  easv. 


315 

than  the  common  one ;  which  yet  has  been  followed  by 
such  surgeons  as  Caeseldun  with  us,  and  De  la  Faye^  and 
Le  Dran^  at  this  time  in  France.  He  has  also,  I  am  told, 
improved  the  practice  of  Surgery  very  much  in  other 
instances.  In  short,  he  is  a  genius  in  his  way  ;  and  I 
think  myself  very  happy  in  having   fallen  into  such  hands. 

I  mentioned  the  Life  of  Petrarch,  which  I  have  nov;  gone 
through  :  it  is  extremely  entertaining.  Were  evtr  two  men 
so  like  each  other,  as  this  citizen  of  Rome,  and  the  citizen  of 
Geneva?  Great  elegance  of  mind  and  sensibility  of  temper 
in  our  citizens,  the  same  pride  of  virtue  and  love  of  liberty  in 
each;  but  these  principles  easily  overpowered  by  the  ruling 
passion,  viz.  an  immoderate  vanity  and  self-importance. 
One  sees  in  both  the  same  inconstancy  and  restlessness 
of  humour,  the  same  caprice,  and  spleen,  and  delicacy. 
Both  ingenious  and  eloquent  in  a  high  degree  ;both  impel- 
led by  an  equal  enthusiasm,  though  directed  towards 
different  objects ;  Petrarch's  towards  the  glory  of  the 
Roman  name  ;  Rousseau's  towards  his  idol  of  a  state  of 
nature.  Both  querulous,  impatient,  unhappy :  the  one 
religious  indeed,  and  the  other  an  esprit  fort :  but  may 
not  Petrarch's  spite  to  Babylon  be  considered,  in  his 
time,  as  a  species  o{  freethmking  ? — Both  susceptible  of 
high  passions  in  love  and  friendship  ;  but,  of  the  two,  the 
Italian  more  constant,  and  less  umbrageous.  \x\  a  word, 
both  mad;  but  Rousseau's  madness  of  a  darker  vein; 
Petrarch's  the  liner  and  more  amiable  phrensy. 

If  ever  I  write  a  book  of  Parallels^  you  see  I  have 
materials  for  one  chapter ;  as  Erasmus  and  Cicero  would 
furnish  a  good  subject  for  another. 

The  colours  in  which  Petrarch  paints  the  Papacy,  are 
black  enough.  But  his  idea  of  Babylon  seems  taken 
from  the  resemblance  he  found  between  the  exile  of  the 
Roman  Church  at  Avignon,  and  the  Jewish  Captivitv 
on  the  hanks    of  the  Euphrates,  and  not    from   the  bo©k 


316 

of  Revelations.  When  Urban  V.  removed  to  the  seven 
hills,  his  Honian  pride  was  satisfied,  and  we  thenceforth 
hear  nothing  more  of  Bab\  Ion. 

Adieu,  my  dear  Lord  ;  and  continue,  if  you  can  in 
conscience,  to  love  me  as  you  seem  to  have  done,  when 
you  wrote  your   late    kind    letter  to    Dr.  Heberden. 

By  all  titles 

Yours, 

R.  KURD. 

Lincohi's-Jnn^  December  \7th^  1768. 


LETTER  CCX. 

Prior-Park,  December  19th,  1768. 

I  BEGAN  to  grow  uneasy  till  your  kind  letter  of  the 
17th  came  in  this  morning  :  though  a  post  or  two  ago,  a 
letit^r  from  Dr.  Heberden  (for  which  I  beg  you  will  give 
him  my  best  thanks)  assured  me  every  thing  was  in  a 
very  promising  wav. 

We  think  ourselves,  indeed,  very  happy  that  we  did 
not  know  the  worst  of  the  case  till  it  was  over. 

You  are  a  strange  man  !  The  expense  cannot  be 
trifling.  Therefore,  once  again,  know  that  my  purse 
is  yours  ;  so  do  not  spare  it,  to  straiten  yourself. 

Pott  will  be  my  favourite,  if  he  does  his  duty  in  this 
instance.     Dr.   Heberden  speaks   highly  of  him. 

Your  Parallel*  is  a  charming  thing.  What  you  sav  in 
jest  of  a  Book  ofPurallels,  I  hope,  may  in  time  be  turned 
to  good  earnest.  You  have  a  peculiar  talent  ("for  what 
have  you  not?)  for  this  enchanting  sort  of  composition. 

It  is  true,  that  it  is  Avignon,  and  not  Rome,  which 
is  called  Babylon  ;  and  ic  is  the  coptiviti/,  and  not  the 
tthore   of  Babylon,  that  ran  in  his  head,  as  it  did  in  mine. 

*  Of  Petrarcli  and  Rousseau.       H. 


317 

Adieu,  my  dearest  friend !  Let  me  know  all  the  steps 
of  your  recovery ;  which  will  be  as  pleasing  as  it  would 
have  been  painful  to  know  all  the  steps  of  your  disorder. 
I  hope  you  did  not  acquaint  your  Mother  with  the  danger 
of  your  disaster. 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER    CCXL 

Prior-Park^  December  261/1^  1768. 

MY  DEAREST  FRIEND, 

YOU  make  me  very  happy  in  your  assurance  to  me  of 
your  perfect  recovery.  Had  I  lived  in  the  time  of  Tully, 
and  in  his  friendship,  as  I  live  in  yours,  I  should  have 
sacrificed  to  iEsculapius  in  behalf  of  your  honest  and  skil- 
ful surgeon. 

You  give  me  equal  satisfaction  in  the  promise  you  make 
of  never  declining  me  nor  my  friendship,  when  it  is  con- 
venient or  useful  to  you. 

A  Bishop,*  more  or  less,  in  this  world,  is  nothing  ;  and 
perhaps  of  as  small  account  in  the  next.  I  used  to  de- 
spise him  for  his  Antiquarianism  :  but  of  late,  since  I  grew 
old  and  dull  myself,  I  cultivated  an  acquaintance  with  him 
for  the  sake  of  what  formerly  kept  us  asunder.  Had  he 
lived  a  little  longer,  I  should  have  been  capable  of  succeed- 
ing him  in  the  high  station  of  his  Presidentship. — We 
laugh  at  the  wrong  heads  we  neither  care  for,  nor  have  to 
do  with  ;  but  it  is  otherwise  when  our  friends  are  struck 
with  his  malady.  It  seems  poor  Towne  thought  my 
silence  (which  was  so  short  that  I  did  not  advert  to  it) 
was  mysterious  ;  so  he  wrote  me  the  inclosed  ;  which, 
together   with   my   answer   on  the   blank,  it  is  not  worth 

*  Bishop  of  Carlisle.  Dr.  LyUcUon.       // 


S18 

while  to  send  back.  I  took  the  liberty  to  mention  yourname  ; 
for  his  Theme  wanted  an  example. 

Ralph  is  now  at  home,  and  taller,  better,  and  wiser ;  if 
not  by  some  inches,  yet  by  some  lines.  As  to  his  learning, 
I  leave  that  to  his  Master,  with  the  same  implicit  faith 
that  a  good  Catholic  does  his  salvation  to  the  Church. 

You  now  only  want  our  dear  Friend  Dr.  Balguv's  com- 
pany, which,  if  he  be  a  man  of  his  word,  you  will  have,  I 
suppose,  in  a  few  days,  and  then  he  will  be  assistant  in  our 
Correspondence.  I  desire  no  larger  a  compass  than  you 
two  will  comprehend;  the  circle  will  not  only  be  large,  but 
perfect,  while  one  leg  is  fixed,  and  the  other  always  running. 

:\IY    DEAREST    MR.    IIURD, 

ever  yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXIL 

Dr.  HURD  to    the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER. 

I  LEFT  London  with  the  greater  pleasure,  in  hopes  of 
drawing  your  Lordship  so  soon   after  me. 

In  my  way  hither,  I  digressed  a  little,  (to  let  you  see 
that  I  have  the  seeds  of  Antiquarianism  in  me,)  to  take  a 
view  of  Gorhambury,  when  I  might  with  equal  ease  have 
taken  a  survey  of  the  modern  finery  at  Looton  Hoo,  and 
had  it  not  in  my  power  to  visit  both.  Tiiis  ancient  seat,  built/ 
by  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  and  embellished  by  Lord  Baci^n, 
Mr.  Meautys,  and  Sir  Harbottle  Grimstone,  successively 
masters  of  it,  stands  very  pleasantly  in  the  midst  of  a  fine 
park,  well  wooded.  There  is  a  gende  descent  from  it  to 
a  pleasant  vale,  which  again  rises  gradually  into  hills  at  a 
distance   and  those  well  cuhivaied,  or  finely  planted.   The 


319 

house  itself  is  of  the  antique  structure,  with  turrets,  but 
low,  and  covered  with  a  white  stucco,  not  unlike  the  old 
purtoi  your  Lordship's  palace  at  Gloucester.  It  is  built 
round  a  court,  nearly  square,  the  front  to  the  South,  with 
a  little  turn,  I  think,  to  the  East.  The  rooms  are  nu- 
merous, but  small,  except  the  hall,  which  is  of  a  moderate 
size,  but  too  narrow  for  the  height :  the  chapel  neat,  and 
well-proportioned,  but  damp  and  fusty,  being  (as  is  usual 
with  chapels  belonging  to  Lay  Lords)  seldom  or  never 
used.  On  the  West  side  of  the  house  (l)Ut  see  the  next 
page)  runs  a  galKry,  about  the  length  of  that  at  Prior- 
Park  ;  the  windows,  especially  the  end  window  to  the  West, 
finely  painted;  the  sides  covered  with  pictures  of  the  great 
men  of  the  time,  I  mean  the  time  of  the  Stuarts  ;  and  the 
ceiling,  which  is  covered,  ornamented  with  the  great  men 
of  antiquity,  painted  in  compartments.  At  the  end  of  the 
gallery  is  a  return,  which  serves  for  a  billiard-room.  Un- 
derneath the  gallery  and  biliiard-room,  is  a  portico  for 
walking,  and  that  too  painted.  I  should  have  observed, 
that  the  chamber-floor  of  the  front  is  a  Library,  furnished 
as  it  seemed  to  me  on  a  slight  glance,  with  the  books  of  the 
time,  as  the  gallery  is  with  the  persons.  The  furniture  alto- 
gether antique,  and  suitable  to  the  rest.  It  is  impossible 
that  any  fine  man  or  woman  of  these  times  should  endure 
to  live  at  this  place:  but  the  whole  has  an  air  of  silence, 
repose,  and  recollection,  very  suitable  to  the  idea  one  has 
of  those 

Shades^  that  to  Bacon  could  retreat  afford ; 

and  to  me  is  one  of  the  most  delicious  seats  I  ever  saw. 
From  this  scene  of  beauty  and  wisdom,  to  Thurcaston, 
is  a  Pindaric  transition.  Yet  I  think,  if  you  saw  it  just 
now,  put  in  tolerable  order  against  my  coming,  and  by  this 
sun,  you  woidd  almost  pardon  the  motto   I  have  fancied 


320 

for  it,  and  (if  I  dealt  in  mottos)  should  write  over  my 
door 

"  H?e  latebrs  dulces,  etiam  (si  credis)  amoenjc." 


4 


I  shall  think  every  day  ten,  till  I  hear  of  your  library 
moving  towards  Gloucester,  and  your  Lordship  being  on 
the  way  to  Leicester. 

Adieu,  my  dear  Lord  ;  and  believis  me  in  all  truth,  and 
with  all  affection, 

Ever  yours, 

R.  HURD. 
'Thiircastoriy  June  lA^th,  1769. 


S. 


E. 


House  round 
a  court. 

W. 

c 

I. 

Gallery. 

N. 


LETTER  CCXIIL 


Grosvenor-Squarcy  June  I9thy  1769. 

I  HAVE  the  pleasure  of  your  kind  and  agreeable  letter 
of  the  14th,  on  your  arrival  to  your  seat  of  Virtue  and 
the  Muses. 

Your  account  of  Gorhambury  is  very  graphical.  The 
Library y  according  to  your  account,  has  been  an  heir-loom 
ever  since  the  time  of  Bacon. 


321 

You  say  your  antiquarian  taste  drew  you  tliither.  1 
rather  think  it  was  superstition  and  idolatry,  such  as  I  am 
seized  with,  whenever  I  think  of  Bishop'' s-Bourn:  to 
which  you  and  I  must  positively  make  a  pilgrimage,  if 
we  live  to  next  Spring. 

Last  Thursday  we  dined  with  IMr.  nnd  Mrs.  Yorke,  at 
Highgate.  It  was  not  a  good  day  ;  but  v.'e  walked  onliis 
terrace,  and  round  his  domain.  He  has  improved  it  much. 
But,  in  contempt  of  j'our  latebrce  dnlces^  you  enter  the 
terrace  by  the  most  extraordinary  gate  that  ever  was. 
His  carpenter,  I  suppose,  v/anting  materials  for  it,  got 
together  all  the  old  garden-tools,  from  the  scythe  to  the 
hammer,  and  has  disposed  them  in  a  most  picturesque 
manner,  to  form  this  gate  :  which,  painted  white,  and 
viewed  at  a  distance,  represents  the  nnjst  elegant  Chinese 
railing :  though  I  suspect  the  patriotic  carpenter  had  it  in 
his  purpose  to  ridicule  that  fantastic  taste.  Indeed, 
his  new-invented  gale  is  full  of  recondite  learning,  and 
might  well  pass  for  Egyptian,  interpreted  by  Abbe  Pluche. 
If  it  should  chance  to  survive  the  present  members  of  the 
Antiquarian  Society  (as  it  well  may,)  I  should  not  despair 
of  its  finding  a  distinguished  place  amongst  their  future 
Transactions^  in  a  beautiful  copper-plate,- — I  was  buried  in 
these  contemplations,  when  Mr.  Yorke,  as  if  ashamed  of, 
rather  than  glorifying  in,  his  artificer's  sublime  ideas, 
drew  me  upon  the  terrace.  Here  we  grew  serious  ;  and 
the  fine  scenes  of  Nature  and  Solitude  around  us,  drew 
us  from  the  Bar  of  the  House  and  the  Bishops'  Bench,  to 
the  memory  of  our  early  and  ancient  friendship,  and  to 
look  into  ourselves.  After  many  mutual  compliments  ou 
this  head  ;  I  said,  "  that  if  at  any  time  I  had  been  want- 
"  ing  in  this  sacred  relation,  I  had  made  him  ample  amends 
"■'  by  giving  him  the  friendship  of  the  present  Preacher  of 
"  Lincoln's-inn."  His  sincerity  made  him  acknowledge 
S  s 


322 


the  greatness  of  the  benefit  :  but  his  politeness  made  him 
insist  upon  it,  "  that  it  was  not  a  debt,  which  he 
*'  had  received  at  my  hands,  but  a  free  gift."  Let  it 
be  what  it  will,  I  only  wish  he  may  shew  the  world,  he 
knows  the  value  of  it.  This  I  know,  that  his  Father, 
amidst  all  his  acquaintance,  chose  the  most  barren  and 
sapless,  on  which  dry  plants  to  shower  down  his  most 
refreshing  ram^  as  Chapman  very  senaibhj  called  it. 

This  morning  we  set  out  for  Prior-Park.  And  as  the 
removal  of  my  books,  and  their  being  safely  lodged  at 
Gloucester,  will  take  up  some  time  ;  and  as  my  Wife 
loves  to  do  things  in  form,  u  e.  to  have  my  advice  with- 
out following  it,  will  require  my  presence  some  time  long- 
er J  I  ventured  to  comply  with  the  Bishop  of  Bath  and 
Wells'  request,  to  confirm  for  him  the  10th  of  July. 
On  the  11th,  I  am  in  hopes  of  setting  forward  for  Thur- 
caston.  But  I  shall  write  again  before  that  time,  to  as- 
certain matters. 


LETTER  CCXIV. 

Prior-Park,  July  5th,  1769. 

MV    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

WHEN  I  wrote  last  to  you,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  I 
was  then  labouring  on  my  old  rheumatic  disorder.  I  have 
not  }  et  got  rid  of  it.  You  may  judge  what  I  have  suffer- 
ed. I  now  (after  an  infinite  deal  of  physic)  set  it  at  de- 
fiance, and  let  it  take  its  course. 

I  hope  to  be  at  the  Cranes  in  Leicester  early  in  the 
afternoon  on  Friday  the  14ih  instant.  Till  that  our  happy 
meeting,  adieu. 

Yours  for  ever, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


323 

LETTER  CCXV. 

Prior-Park,  July  '^th,  1769, 

MY    DEAR    SIR, 

TO-MOKROW  was  to  have  been  the  confirmation  for 
the  Bishop  of  Bach  and  Welis,  at  Bath.  But  I  find  my- 
self so  ill  of  a  feverish  disorder,  that  I  am  laid  up,  and 
am  in  the  course  of  a  saline  draught.  By  next,  shall 
give  you  more  news  of  me.  Till  then  I  am,  as  usual,  un- 
alterably yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXVL 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

A  FEVER  prevents  my  seeing  you  at  the  time  I  pro- 
jected. And,  what  is  worse,  my  Wife  will  not  suflfer  me 
to  take  the  journey  at  all.  But  let  not  your  honest  heart 
be  alarmed.  It  is  one  of  those  fevers  I  am  subject  to, 
and  which  has  always  been  removed  by  saline  draughts. 
Ever  yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 
July  10th,  1769. 


324 

LETTER  CCXVII. 

Gloucester,  August  16t/i,  1769. 

MV    DEAREST  FRIEND. 

ON  getting  hither  (which  I  thank  God  I^have  done  in 
tolerable  health)  I  had  so  many  little  things  to  adjust,  be- 
fore I  could  think  myself  at  home,  and  had  so  many  visit- 
ors to  receive,  that  before  I  could  sit  down  to  this,  the 
hour  of  the  post  was  past,  which  concerned  me  much,  for 
Saturday  will  be  the  next  post  nigin. 

Let  me  thank  you,  without  ceremony,  for  the  hospitality 
and  sincere  pleasure  I  enjoyed  the  whole  fortnight  I  was 
wilh  you  at  Thurcaston.  Let  ine  be  remembered  to  Mr. 
Babington  and  his  Brother-in-law  the  Doctor.  And  let 
me  still  enjoy  the  fruits  of  that  love  and  friendship,  which 
is  the  honour  and  happiness  of  my  life. 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXVIIL 

Gloucester,  September  -ith,  1769. 

I  HAVE  received  vour  kind  letter  of  advice :  and  shall 
(in  the  banker's  phrase)  accept  and  honour  the  contents. 

You  know,  by  experience,  how  difficult  it  is,  when  we 
have  once  got  into  a  wicked  habit  of  thinking,  to  leave  it 
off.  All  I  can  promise  is,  if  that  will  satisfy  you,  to  think 
to  no  purpose :  and  this  I  know  bj'  experience  1  can  do  ; 
having  done  so  for  many  a  good  day. 

I  think  you  have  oft  heard  me  say,  that  my  delicious  sea- 
son is  the  Autumn,  the  season  which  gives  most  life  and 
vigour  to  my  mental  faculties.  The  light  mists,  or,  as  Mil- 
f.on  calls  them,  the  steam'',  that  rise  from  the  fields  in  one  of 


325 

these  mornings,  give  the  s;ime  relief  to  the  views,  that 
the  blue  of  the  plum  (to  take  my  ideas  from  the  season) 
gives  to  the  appetite.  But  1  now  enjoy  little  of  this  plea- 
sure, compared  to  what  I  formerly  had  in  an  Autumn- 
morning,  when  I  used  with  a  book  in  my  hand,  to  tra- 
verse the  delightful  lawns  and  hedge-rows  round  about  the 
town  of  Newark,  the  unthinking  place  of  my  nativity. 
Besides,  my  rheumatism  now  keeps  me  within  in  a  morn- 
ing, till  the  sun  has  exhaled  the  blue  cff  the  plum.  And 
that  prostitute.  Fortune,  will  make  me  no  amends,  by 
enabling  me  to  draw,  and  keep  under  my  roof,  the  man 
whose  converse  has  all  the  freshness,  the  variety,  the  riches, 
and  the  gay  colouring  of  this  happy  season.  And  yet,  as 
Shakespear  says  of  the  figured  clouds  in  a  gilded  even- 
ing, that 

"  They  are  black  Vesper's  pageants," 

so  I  am  forced  to  say  of  Autumn,  that  it  too  soon  gives 
place  to  grisly  Winter. 

Your  friend  is  yet  at  Bath.  Every  thing  sold  extremely 
well  at  the  sale,  and  all  went  off,  except  the  magnificent 
set  of  Chelsea  China,  which  she  took  care  should  not  go 
at  an  under-value  ;  because  it  is  ready  money  at  any  time 
in  London.  She  is  uncertain  whether  she  can  get  hither 
by  the  music  meeting.  Lord  Kerry's  people  have  had  the 
house  delivered  up  to  them.  In  a  letter  I  received  this 
morning  from  her  are  these  words  :  "  I  shall  not  like  to 
"  see  Prior-ParTc  now  it  is  so  stript.  But  I  never  reflect 
"  on  my  having  quitted  it,  without  satisfaction  and  joy." 
• — As  I  have  the  same  satisfaction^  so  wish  us  both  ju?/,- 


326 


LETTER  GCXIX. 

Gloucester.,  September  2od,  1769. 

I  HAVE  your  two  letters  of  the  15th  and  19th  instant 
to  acknowledge  ;  and  am  extremely  obliged  to  you  for 
satisfying  Lord  Mansfield's  kind  inquiries.  Almost  every 
letter  one  receives,  which  tells  or  inquires  after  news, 
even  of  the  present,  is  sufficient  to  convince  us  of  the 
Pyrrhonism  of  History. 

I  am  much  concerned  to  find  that  you  do  not  receive 
the  benefit,  you  would  wish,  from  your  succedaneum. 
For,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  regard  the  present  rage 
for  sea-bathing  as  only  a  fashionable  folly.  Our  modern 
Pagans  seem  to  have  adopted  the  maxim  of  their  prede- 
cessors, that  the  sea  is  a  cure  for  all  mortal  ills. 

Garrick's  portentous  ode,  as  you  truly  call  it,  has  but 
one  line  of  truth  in  it,  which  is  where  he  calls  Shakespear 
the  God  of  our  idolatry  :  for  sense  1  M'ill  not  allow  it  j  for 
that  which  is  so  highly  satirical,  he  makes  the  topic  of  his 
hero's  encomium.  The  ode  itself  is  below  any  of  Gibber's. 
Gibber's  nonsense  was  something  like  sense  ;  but  this 
man's  sense,  whenever  he  deviates  into  it,  is  much  more 
like  nonsense. 

We  too  have  had  our  Jubilee  ;  but  held  in  the  old  Jew- 
ish manner,  when  it  was  a  season  for  relief  of  the  dis- 
tressed ;  which  was  truly  singing  to  God  with  the  voice  of 
melody.  We  too,  and  with  a  vengeance,  exalted  our  sing- 
ing voice.,  in  the  language  of  old  Hopkins  and  Sternhold, 
the  Gibber  and  the  Garrick  of  their  time,  for  ode-making. 
But  here  we  forsook  our  Jewish  model.  You  know  that 
the  hire  of  a  whore  and  the  price  of  a  dog  were  forbid  to 
be  offered  up  to  the  God  of  purity.  But  we  presumed  to 
offer  up  to  him,  the  hire  of  two  whores.  You  may  judge 
by  what  I  am  going  to  say,  what  it  is  that  passes  under  the 


327 

name  of  charity  amongst  us.  We  have  got  for  the  dis- 
tressed Clergy  of  the  three  Dioceses,  some  340/.  And 
to  procure  this,  we  have  levied  upon  the  country  684/. 
6*.  lOd.  for  their  entertainment  in  Fiddlers  and  Singers  ; 
of  which  sum,  100/.  is  contributed  by  me  and  my  coad- 
jutor. 

I  am  now  to  give  you  an  account  of  what  3'ou  had  more 
at  heart,  mv  JUichaelmas  OrdinatioJi.  Though  I  gave  notice 
of  it,  according  to  your  direction,  in  the  Gloucester  Jour- 
nal ;  yet,  had  it  not  been  for  a  little  Welch  Deacon, 
who  flew  hither  from  his  native  mountains  by  accident, 
like  a  Woodcock  in  a  mist,  it  had  been  a  Maidtn  Ordi- 
nation^ and  I  must  like  the  judges,  have  given  gloves  to 
my  officers  ;  for  an  examination  is  a  kind  of  execution. 
My  own  Mr.  Hurd  ! 

Ever  yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER, 


LETTER  CCXX. 

Gloucester,  October  17 th^  1769. 

I  HAVE  the  pleasure  of  yours  of  the  11th. 

The  Corporation  of  Gloucester  dined  with  me  the 
other  day,  among  whom  was  Alderman  George  Selwyn, 
They  had  given  me  the  freedom  of  the  city,  which  I 
knew  not  of  till  then,  for  the  instrument  had  not  beea 
sent  me.  Yet  this  did  not  hinder  me  from  making  a  pro- 
posal to  them,  on  speaking  of  the  Stratford  Jubilee.  I 
said,  that  as  the  spirit  of  Republican  liberty  was  the  only 
devil  that  had  now  got  possession  of  us,  this  city  had  a  bet- 
ter right  to  a  Jubilee  than  Stratford  ;  it  having  produced  two 
Patriot  Saints,  which  bid  defiance  to  Charles  the  First; 
and  were,  on  that  account,  immortalized  by  the  pen  of 
Lord  Clarendon:    who   tells   us,  that    their     uncommon 


328 

accomplishments  performed  a  miracle  that  no  Church-Saint 
ever  achieved  ;  of  making  the  merriest  men^  melancholy ; 
and  the  most  melancholy  men^  merry.  Though  this  in- 
creased our  mirth,  yet  I  am  not  now  to  expect  that  my 
freedom  will  be  sent  me  cither  in  a  gold  or  silver  box.  It 
will  be  Vv'ell  if  I  get  as  splendid  a  case  for  it  as  Mr. 
Yorke's  lamprey. 

I  had  stopped  my  Letters  Dimissory,  on  your  first 
admonition,  some  time  ago.  So  the  solitude  of  my  Ordi- 
nation was  not  occasioned  by  that,  but  by  their  fear  of  an 
examination,  which  carries  greater  terror  along  with  it 
at  Gloucester,  than  elsewhere.  Hence  the  great  demand 
of  Letters  Dimissory,  and  the  scarcity  of  candidates  in 
person. 

I  agree  with  you  that  Mr.  Balguy's  conduct,  with 
regard  to  that  wretched  fellow  Priestly^  was  the  conduct 
of  a  man  ;  and    Dr.   B 's,  of  an  ass. 

There  were  indeed  PriestleijS  in  the  golden  age  of 
Literature.  But  ihfir  ill  success  with  the  public  was 
rather  owing  to  the  times,  when  the  people  believed  upon 
principle,  (as  now  they  disbelieve  upon  none,)  than  to  the 
superior  abilities  of  the  Guardians  of  Religion.  Ihe 
thing  is  now  over ;  as  a  friend  of  ours  delicately  intimates 
to  me  in  these  words, 

*'  Sat  Trojee  Priamoque  datum" 

as  you  will  find  them  in  the  inclosed  letter. 

You  will  love  and  admire  the  writer,  not  for  the  exact 
truth,  but  for  the  warmth  and  nobleness  of  his  friendship, 

I  am  charmed  with  what  you  ttll  me  of  the  prosecution 
of  your  Lectures,  and  your  scheme  of  the  whole.  If 
your  successors  go  not  upon  your  foundation,  they  build 
upon  sand.  I  am  delighted  with  what  you  say  of  your 
discourse  on  tlie  prophetic  language,  that  it  does  not 
displease  you.     If  so,  I  am  sure  it  will  please  every  body 


329 

else.  It  is  of  infinite  importance :  the  ignorance  of  its 
origin  and  nature  has  made  more  infidels,  than  any  other 
circumstance  whatever;  who  have  been  always  ready  to 
ascribe  it  to  cant,  to  knavery,  and  fanaticism. 

God  preserve  your  health,  for  his  service,  for  the 
happiness  of  your  friends,  and  for  the  instruction  of  the 
learned.     So  prayeth  your  friend, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXXL 

Gloucester,  November  11  th,  1769. 
I  RECEIVED  your  kind  letter  of  the  9th  ihis  morn- 
ing. I  am  glad  you  are  got  to  town,  where  you  may 
enter  into  a  better  course  of  physic  both  of  mind  and  body 
than  you  could  do  at  Thurcaston.  The  account  you  give 
of  yourself  for  the  five  or  six  weeks  past,  shews  how  much 
you  needed  to  change  the  scene,  for  the  better  operation 
of  a  course  of  the  mental  physic,  which,  I  trust  in  God, 
you  most  want.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  could  be  more 
concerned  if  your  vain  apprehensions  of  an  incurable 
disorder  were  real,  than  I  am,  under  my  confidence  that 
they  are  not.  Make  me  soon  happy  in  a  more  cheerful 
letter.  Were  you  here  with  me,  we  should  neitlier  of  us 
want  amusement.  Our  Dean  is  returned.  And  last 
night  I  took  Mr.  Sparkes*  with  me  to  pay  him  a  visit. 
He  soon  took  the  advantage'  of  my  being  off  my  guard, 
and  confining  him  to  trade ;  and,  before  I  was  aware,  was 
got  deep  into  the  Calvinistical  Artkhs,  which  he  was 
resolved   to   clear  of  that   imputation.     A  flow    of  more 

*  The  Rev   Edward  Spai-kes,M.  A.  Head  Master  of  the  Colles^e  Sehoal-    it 

T  t 


330  * 

trnnscendant  nonsense  I  never  heard  on  the  occasion.  Mr. 
Sparkes,  who  owed  him  a  grudge  on  the  affair  of  Grotius, 
would  needs  contradict  him  ;  and  this  was  fair.  But  he 
would  needs  understand  him;  and  here  the  Dean,  who 
did  not  understand  himself,  must  needs  have  the  advan- 
tage Sense  sometimes,  though  rarely,  produces  more 
sense ;  i)ut  it  comes  up  slowly,  and  requires  weeding. 
Bujt  the  harvest  of  nonsense,  on  good  ground,  produces 
a  hundred  fold,  and  springs  up  immediatelv.  In  the 
course  of  it,  our  friend  was  insulted,  by  asking  him 
whether  he  had  read  this  Divine  and  that  Divine  ;  and 
ended  in  fairly  telling  him  that  his  forte  lay  in  classical 
learning,  but  he  was  a  mere  stranger  to  these  pro- 
found researches.  You  may  judge  how  the  harmless 
gravity  of  our  friend  must  be  disconcerted,  and  even 
violated,  with  this  rudeness,  which  nothing  but  the  irre- 
sistible ambition  of  shining  as  a  Divine  before  his  Bishop 
could  have  drawn  the  good-natured  Dean  into.  But  all 
this  was  very  imperfectly  enjoyed,  by  your  not  being  of 
the  party  :  for  then  I  should  have  had  a  picture  of  it  the 
next  morning,  of  much  more  worth  than  the  original. 

God  preserve  you  !  When  you  see  Lord  Mansfield, 
make  my  best  remembrance  of  him  as  acceptable  as  you 
can  to  him.  Nor  let  me  be  forgotten  at  the  next  door. 
But,  above  all,  let  me  hear  of  your  better  health,  and 
spet;dily. 

P>  S.  Kalph  is  much  yours,  and  rejoices  in  your  remem- 
brance of  him.  His  Mother  is  now  at  Bath,  in  her 
way  to  town.  You  are  very  right :  she  takes  more 
pleasure  in  dispersing  than  receiving.  Gold  in  her 
hand  seems  to  change  to  what  the  alchemists  pretend 
is  the  first  seed  and  root  of  gold.  Quicksilver. 


LETTER  CCXXII. 

Gloucester^  November  23d,   1 769. 

I  HAVE  the  pleasure  of  yours  of  the  20ih,  and  rejoice 
to  understand  that  you  are  better,  and  in  better  spirits. 

Lord  Mansfield's  disorder  was  unknown  to  nne.  But 
your  account  of  him  gave  me  occasion  to  write  to  him,  and 
even  to  congratulate  him  in  having  got  well  rid  ol  the  im- 
purities in  his  blood  by  these  eruptions. 

My  time  of  coming  to  town  is  uncertain:  I  could  wish 
that,  when  my  Wife  has  put  the  workmen  in  a  way  to 
finish  without  her,  she  would,  as  she  proposed,  return 
back,  and  spend  the  Christmas  here.  I  know  of  no  way  so 
likely  to  induce  her  to  it,  as  your  accompanying  her  down, 
and  all  of  us  return  together.  Think  of  this  ;  and  see 
if  you  cannot  make  this  pleasing  vision  real. 

I  am  glad  you  think  my  Wife's  great  expense  is  not 
thrown  away.  The  alteration  must  have  much  improved  my 
library,  as  well  as  her  dressing-room.  But  I  cannot  see  how 
either  of  them  can  be  safely  lived  in,  this  Winter.  Making 
a  passage  to  my  library  through  the  little  anti-room  will 
certainly  be  an  improvement.  And  I  agree  to  it.  But 
there  is  no  occasion  to  remove  the  books  from  the  glass- 
case  there,  to  fill  up  the  enlarged  space  in  my  library, 
since  I  have  more  books  above  stairs  than  will  serve  for 
that  purpose. 

I  have  not  had  yet  Dr.  Heberden's  opinion,  but  pur- 
pose to  take  it.  I  am  convinced  my  disorder  is  not  a  ge- 
nuine rheumatism,  but  what  arose  four  years  ago  from  St. 
Anthony's  fire,  which  generally  fouls  the  blood,  and  con- 
tinues long  in  it. 

I  am  charmed  with  the  method  of  your  Lectures  ;  it  is 
admirable.  Pray  do  not  let  Dr.  Balguy's  refinements 
spoil  the  elegance  of  ii. 


332 

I  received  a  letter  from  him  about  a  fortnight  ago  ;  and, 
in  my  answer  to  it,  told  him  my  sense  of  your  cuurse  of 
Lectures.  And  as  he  talked  of  not  getting  to  town  till 
the  middle  of  next  month,  I  endeavoured  to  hasten  his 
time,  as  you  would  be  at  a  loss  for  amusement,  which 
you  much  wanted.  I  understand  by  him  that  Lord  Botte- 
tourt,  as  he  cannot  mend  the  politics  of  his  Virginians, 
is  set  upon  mending  their  morula;  and,  to  that  end,  has 
written  to  old  Dr.  Barton,  to  procure  him  a  professor  of 
morality,  for  the  College  there  Burton  has  applied  to  our 
friend,  to  find  out  a  proper  subject.  And  our  Iritnd  says, 
he  has  found  one  ;  a  good  moralist,  but  a  very  bad  ceco- 
nomist  :  who, he  thinks,  will  fit  them.  I  could  not  (when 
I  thought  of  the  Right  Honourable  Governor)  but  ap- 
plaud the  felicity  of  this  choice.  Mr.  Yoike  will  be  of  my 
opinion. 

Pray  let  me  hear  from  you  often.  Nothing  can  make 
me  happier  than  to  know  1  am  in  your  thoughts,  as  you 
are  always  in  .nine. 

Adieu  my  dearest  friend.  Let  me  persuade  you  to  be 
cheerful.    Your  own  virtues  will  always  make  you  happy. 

W.  GLOUCESILK. 

P.  S,  This  for  your  last  letter.  For  your  last  but  one  of 
the  16th,  douijle  thanks  are  due  to  you,  as  it  relieved 
me  from  much  anxiety  with  regard  to  your  health  and 
spirits, 


LETTER  CCXXIIL 

Gloucester^  December  7th^  1769. 
I  HAVE  the  pleasure   of  your   kind  letter  of  the  3d, 
which,  giving  me  a  better  account    of  your  health,  makes 
me  very  happy. 


333 

All  you  say  of  the  excellent  person  on  the  Hill,  is  very 
true.  But  I  fancy  he  has  taken  sacra^  in  sacra  famesy 
in  its  original  sense. 

I  found  there  was  no  getting  my  Wife  back.  Mahomet, 
at  a  pinch,  when  he  could  not  prove  himself  a  prophet, 
did  the  next  best,  and  shewed  himself  a  prudent  man^  and 
went  to  the  Mountain. 

You  are  very  good.  Your  anxiety  made  you  speak 
about  me  to  Dr.  Heherden.  I  had  ordered  Channing  to 
consult  him.  He  has  got  the  Doctor's  prescription,  and 
has  sent  me  his  medicines,  which,  I  think,  have  already 
done  me  service.  Old  age  is  a  losing  game.  I  have  had 
so  little  exercise  for  my  grinders  of  late,  that  two  of  them 
seem  to  have  taken  it  in  dudgeon,  and  threaten  to  leave  my 
service. 

I  am  glad  you  have  despatched  the  fourth  Sermon.  The 
more  they  have  of  you,  the  better  for  them. — Not  only 
the  Church  of  England,  but  the  other  Protestant  Churches, 
soon  slipped  beside  their  foundation  ;  duped  by  the  Church 
of  Rome,  who,  knowing  their  professed  reverence  for  the 
primitive  Churchy  urged  them  with  the  Fathers;  whose 
hyperbolical  language,  in  many  capital  points  indifference 
between  the  two  great  parties  that  then  divided  Europe, 
made  them  look  like  fautors  of  the  Catholic  cause.  The 
Protestants,  who  were  confident  the  Fathers  must  needs 
be  with  them,  joined  issue  with  the  Papists,  and  agreed  to 
carry  their  cause  before  that  tribunal.  The  contest,  by 
this  means,  grew  endless  ;  when  Daille,  a  minister  ot 
Charenton,  searching  into  the  reason,  at  length  found  it, 
and  published  it  to  the  world.  He  shewed  that  the  Fathers 
were  incompetent  evidence  either  for  one  party  or  the 
other  ;  because  the  points  noxu  in  dispute  were  unkno7vn 
to  the  Ancients,  and  of  mere  modern  invention ;  so  that 
every  thing  concerning  them,  that  was  to  be  found  in  the 
Fathers^  was  mere  hap-hazard.     He    gives  other  reasons 


too  of  their  incompetency,  which  Taylor  and  Digby  have 
paraphrased  and  improved.  But  Chillingworih,  and  Falk- 
land, contemporaries  of  Daille,  made  the  best  use  of  him, 
in  settling  things  again  on  their  old  foundation,  the  Bible. 
Daille's  book  is  entitled,  "  Of  the  right  Use  of  the  Fa- 
"  thers ,"  the  original  is  in  French.  There  are  two  trans- 
lations, one  in  Latin,  the  other  m  English.  There  is  a 
curious  account  of  this  whole  matter,  as  far  as  it  concerns 
Chillingworth  and  Falkland,  in  Des  Maizeaux's  Life  of 
Chillingworih.  I  think  some  observations  of  the  true 
foundation  of  Protestanism,  the  Bible,  and  Antichrist,  the 
Antibible,  will  have  a  singular  grace  at  the  conclusion  of 
your  Lectures. 

The  Chancellor  has  given  the  vacant  Vicarage  of 
Tewksbury  to  one  Evanson  of  your  College,*  whom  I 
have  instituted  ;  and  as  he  imroduced  himself  to  me  in 
your  name,  I  have  given  him  some  expectations  of  a 
Perpetual  Curacy  in  the  neigh'.iourhood,  in  my  gift,  to 
help  him  to  pay  his  Curate  of  Tewksbury. 


LETTER  CCXXIV. 

I,  THIS  morning,  received  your  kind  Letter  of  the  6th 
instant ;  and  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  left  all  your  family 
well ;  and  that  you  are  returned  to  Fhurcaston  in  apparent 

*  Of  your  College.'^  On  this  account,  I  wished  to  serve  Mr.  Evanson 
with  the  Bishop.  But  the  offence  lie  gave  his  parish,  in  not  conforming  to 
the  Liturgy,  ohliged  him,  in  no  long  time,  to  quit  his  vicarage  of  Tewks- 
bury, and  his  curacy  together.  He,  afterwards,  addressed  a  printed  letter 
to  me,  of  which  I  took  no  notice. — What  has  since  become  of  the  poor  man» 
I  have  not  heard.     I  write  this,  August  31st,  179'.     M. 


335 

good  spirits.     My  disorder,  I  thank  God,  has,  hitherto, 
not  returned. 

I  propose  to  send  the  Archbishop's  injunction  to  n>y 
Clergy. 

Hunter  sent  me  his  View  of  Lord  Boliugbroke's 
character.  He  is  a  good  man  :  but,  in  this  book,  I  think 
he  has  shewn  himself  very  absurd  and  indiscreet.  Absurd, 
in  a  florid  declamation  ;  and  indiscreet,  as  well  as  veiy 
injudicious,  in  the  most  extravagant  encomium  of  Boling- 
broke's  parts  that  ever  was  ;  even  to  say,  page  323,  "  he 
"  reasoned  -with  the  f>ride  of  a  superior  spirit,  and  I  had 
"  almost  said  (says  he)  with  the  faculties  of  an  angel.''^ 

This  disposed  me  to  look  again  into  the  reasoning  of 
this  superior  spirit^  this  angelic  7nan^  as  I  have  collected 
together  the  best  he  has,  in  my  Viezv  of  his  Philosophy, 
I  have  done  it  justice.  But  this  retrospect  is  accompanied 
with  a  mortifying  conviction,  that  the  time  is  now  past, 
when  I  was  able  to  write  with  that  force.  Expect  to  find 
in  my  future  writings,  the  marks  of  intellectual  decay. 
But  so  much  for  that  matter. 

Ralph  rejoices  in  your  memory  of  him.  His  Mother  is 
no  less  grieved  for  the  necessity  of  your  absence. 

I  received  the  other  day  a  letter  from  Dr.  Balguy, 
who  is  returned  from  his  Visitation,  and  has  replaced 
himself  (as  he  expresses  it)  in  his  easy  chair.  There  is 
no  danger  of  its  doing  him  that  harm,  that  your  easy  chair 
may  do  you  :  for  it  has  a  spring  that  tosses  him  out,  with 
ease,  whenever  a  novelty  in  the  literary  or  political  world 
(like  an  extraneous  body)  comes  cross  his  system.  Yours 
is  like  the  enchanted  chair  of  Milton's  Comus,  not  for 
his  use,  but  for  the  obstruction  of  that  active  virtue,  which 
Nature,  by  being  so  lavish,  shews  it  did  not  form  for  an 
easy  chair. 

I  begin  to  think  that  the  Archdeaconry  of  Gloucester 
was  worth  your  acceptance  ;  for  that  your  annual  perambu- 


336 

lation  will  give  you  a  stock  of  health,  though  it  adds  no- 
thing to  your  finances. 

You  will  now  soon  determine  how  you  shall  pass  your 
vacation,  whether  by  land  or  sea.  When  I  know  you  are 
happy  in  either  element,  1  shall  be  happy.  I  trust  to 
neither,  but  to  a  good  fire  for  the  future  part  of  the 
Summer,  if  it  shall  prove  like  the  past,  as  it  threatens 
to  do. 

The  public-spirited  Dean,  who  hates  Faction  because  it 
has  ruined  the  trade  to  the  Plantations,  is  enraged  to  find 
that,  even  with  the  assistance  of  one  of  the  Directors  of 
the  Bank  he  cannot  get  one  single  Newspaper  to  afford  a 
place  to  his  learned  lucubrations. 

Gloucester^  July  11th,  1770. 


LETTER  CCXXV. 

Dr.  HURD   to  the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER. 

Thurcaston,  July  23d,  1770. 

MY    DEAR  LORD, 

I  WAS  very  happy  to  be  assured,  in  your  kind  favour 
of  the  11th,  that  your  disorder  had  not  returned  at  that 
time.  But  eleven  days  are  already  elapsed  since  the  date 
of  it ;  and  I  am  now  again  wishing  for  the  same  good  ac- 
count of  you. 

Dr.  Heberden  has  sent  me  his  final  instructions,  and 
such  as  I  hardly  durst  expect.  He  absolves  me  from  doing 
penance  in  the  sea,  which  I  dread  as  much  as  a  good 
Catholic  does  Purgatory  ;  and  is  satisfied  if  I  do  but  ob- 
serve an  easy  regimen,  which  he  prescribes  to  me  in  the 
room  of  it.  This  is  good  news  on  many  accounts  ;  but 
chiefly,  because  I   hope  it  gives  me  a  chance  (if  you  con- 


337 

tinue  pretty  well,  and  shall  be  disposed  to  give  yourself  a 
little  exercise,  as  I  think  you  should)  of  seeing  your 
Lordship  at  this  place.  I  believe,  or  fancy  at  least,  that 
you  said  something  that  looked  like  a  promise  of  giving 
me  this  pleasure.  As  I  propose  to  be  here,  and  alone, 
for  the  rest  of  the  Summer,  your  Lordship  may  choose 
your  own  time,  and  can  never  come  amiss  to  me. 

I  have  not  yet  seen  Hunter's  book,  but  believe  it  is  on 
the  road  from  London.  As  to  what  you  say  of  your  not 
writing  with  tht  force  you  formerly  did,  it  may  very  well 
be,  and  yet  be  no  subject  of  mortification  :  for,  be- 
sides that  you  can  afford  to  abate  something  of  your  an- 
cient force,  and  yet  have  enough  left,  force  itself  has  not, 
in  all  periods  of  life,  the  same  grace.  The  close  of  one 
of  these  long  and  bright  days  has  not  the  flame  and  heat 
of  noon,  and  would  be  less  pleasing  if  it  had.  And  I 
know  not  why  it  may  not  be  true,  in  the  critical  as  well  as 
moral  sense  of  the  Poet's  words — lenior  et  melior  fis,  ac- 
cedente  senecta. — But  what  I  would  chiefly  say  on  the 
subject  is  this,  that  whether  with  force,  or  without  it,  I 
would  only  wish  your  future  writings  to  be  an  amusement 
to  you,  and  not  a  labour  ;  and  this,  I  think,  is  the  proper 
use  to  be  made  of  your  observation,  if  it  be  ever  so  well 
founded. 


LETTER  CCXXVI. 

Gloucester^  August  20th,  1 770. 

I  MUST  thank  you  for  your  kind  letter.     You'  talk 

of  a  projfct ;  but   why   would  you   not  explain   it  ?   You 

know  hovv    I  love   you.     Nos  duo    turba  .snmas.     I   have 

now  had  something  a  longer  intermission  from  my  pain. 

0u 


338 

The  inclosed  is  Irom  an  enninent  Minister  of  Edin- 
burgh, who  disobliged  a  rich  Advocate,  his  Father,  by 
going  into  orders  ;  who  however  (I  suppose  on  account 
c>f  a  large  famil\ )  did  not  disinherit  him. — It  concerns 
Ossian  chiefly  ;  and  he  appeals  to  you,  which  made  me 
smile.  It  confirms  you  in  your  opinion,  that  these  poems 
are  patched  up  from  old  Erse  Fragments. 

The  Latin  note  on  poor  Mr.  Yorke  is  extremely  proper 


LETTER  CCXXVII. 

Gloucester^  September  10th,  1770. 

I  HAVE  your  favour  of  the  3d.  It  is  certain  this  Mr. 
Erskine  never  read  Lectures  on  Fingal.  He  is  a  deep 
Divine  ;  and  only  amused  himself  in  writing  a  few  words 
on  a  popular  subject  in  Scotland. 

I  am  ol)liged  to  you  for  your  kind  invitation.  But  I 
have  a  large  Ordination  on  the  day  after  Michaelmas-day, 
Vv'hich  v/ill  require  my  presence  then  ;  and  my  Wife  is 
just  gone  to  Bath,  where  she  stays  a  fortnight  with  the 
horses.  The  invitation  would  have  been  so  flattering  t© 
Ralph,  that  we  dare  not  tell  him  of  it. 

Wheth'cT  Epicurus  had  so  good  a  garden  as  yours,  I 
will  not  determine.  I  am  sure  he  had  not  so  good  a  mind  ; 
and  therefore  could  not  enjoy  his  garden,  good  or  bad, 
with  that  serenity  and  delight  with  which  you  enjoy  yours. 
It  is  good  in  you  to  communicate  this  pleasure  to  me,  for 
from  ihence    I  conclude  advantageously  of  your  health. 

Your  grammatical  pleasures,  which  you  enjoy  in  study- 
ing the  most  correct  of  our  great  writers,  Mr.  Addison, 
cannot  be  greater  than  the  political  ones  I  taste,  in  reading, 
over  again,  the  most  incorrect  of  all  good  Writers,  (though 
not  from  his  incorrectness,  which  is  stupendous,)    Lord 


339 

Clarendon,  in  the  late  published  Continuation  of  his  His- 
tory. 

I  charge  you,  bring  your  Addison  to  town.  Nothicg 
is  minutiae  to  me  which  you  zvrite  or  think. 

I  see  by  the  papers  that  Jortin  is  dtad.  His  overrating 
his  abilities,  and  the  public's  underrating  them,  made  so 
gloomy  a  temper  eat,  as  the  ancients  expressed  it,  /lis  Qxvn 
heart.  If  his  death  distresses  his  own  family,  I  shall  be 
heartily  sorry  for  this  accident  of  mortality.  If  not,  there 
is  no  loss  even  to  himself.  We  shall  see  these  places 
(given  by  the  late  Bishop  of  London)  amply  filled  again 
by  \\\it  present.  For  these  stationart/  grandees  are  like  the 
rock  ovsters  Locke  speaks  of,  which  have  neither  senti- 
nient  nor  choice  to  admit  or  refuse  the  watery  inhabitants 
they  gape  for. — Whether  the  water  be  clearer  dirty,  sweet 
or  salt,  they  must  entertain  whatever  Chance  sends  ;  and 
therefore,  says  the  Philosopher,  the  goodness  of  Provi- 
dence is  seen  in  making  their  sensations  so  Jeru  and  dull. 


LETTER  CCXXVIIL 

Gloucester,  October  16th,   1770. 

YOU  tell  me,  in  yours  of  the  27th  past,  that  you  take 
some  pains  to  be  as  rvell as  you  can.  The  expression  makes 
me  hope  you  are  almost  as  well  as  I  wish  you.  Take 
but  half  the  pains  with  your  body,  that  you  do  with  your 
mind,  and  I  shall  be  content. 

I  think  Dr.  Heberden  has,  at  length,  put  me  in  a  way 
to  conquer  my  complaint  ;  it  is  by  an  issue  in  my  right 
arm. — But  of  this  I  cannot  yet  be  over-confident. 

Your  reflections  on  Lord  Clarendon  are  the  truth  itself. 
The  History  of  his  Life  and  and  Administration  I  have 
just  finished.     Every  thing  is  admirable  in  it  but  the  style  i 


340 

in  which  your  favourite  and  amiable  author  has  infinitely 
the  adviintage.  Bring  him  with  you  to  town.  There,  I 
own,  your  late  amusements  have  the  advantage  of  mine- 
It  was  an  advantage  I  envied  you  ;  which  that  I  might  no 
longer  do,  I  have  begun  with  a  certain  book,  entitled, 
"  Moral  and  Political  Dialogues^  the  third  edition  ;^^  in 
which  there  is  all  the  correctntss  of  Mr.  Addison's  style, 
and  a  strength  of  reasoning,  under  the  direction  of  judg- 
ment, far  superior. 

May  Heaven  always  favour  \.\\q  pains  you  take^  whether 
for  the  preservation  or  improvement  of  your  body  or  mind  ; 
for  the  public  is  concerned  in  both,  but  no  particular  so 
much  as  your  affectionate, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXXIX. 

Gloucester^  October  23th,  1770, 
THIS,  I  suppose,  will  just  catch  you  rvith  one  foot  in 
the  stirrup.     It  is  only  to  desire  you  to  bring  my  will  with 
you  to  London. 

I  am  yet  undetermined  when  I  shall  leave  the  country; 
though  I  be  much  disgusted  with  my  favourite  season. 
Autumn,  which  has  passed  as  uncoinfoi  tably  and  as  unsea- 
sonably as  a  Winter's  day,  but  more  tediously. 

I  have  read  over  again  the  bulky  Life  of  Petrarch  and 
like  it  much  better  than  at  first.  It  is  a  most  curious  and 
very  judicious  compilation.  Our  friend  Balguy,  who  is 
given  to  skimming,  missed  all  the  cream.  I  wish  the  same 
writer  would  give  us,  composed  in  the  same  manner,  what 
he  has  promised,,  "  3femoirs  for  the  Lives  of  Dante  and 
"  Boccacey 


341 

Langhorne  has  sent  me  his  new  translation  of  Phitarch  ; 
which  I  shall  not  look  into  till  I  have  thanked  him  for  it. 

When  you  see  Lord  Mansfield-,  you  will  make  my  com- 
pliments, &:c. 

The  Russians  seem  to  be  the  instruments  appointed  to 
verify  the  Prophecies.  But  what  instruments  ! — such  as 
justice,  both  divine  and  human,  very  fidy  appoints  to  be 
executioners  of  malefactors,  the  aversion  of  humanity,  and 
ending  on  a  gibbet  themselves. 


LETTER  CCXXX. 

Gloucester^  November  11  th,  1770. 

I  HAVE  your  kind  letter  of  the  19th.  You  had  taught 
me  to  think  well  of  Dr.  Hallifax  ;  and  my  regard  for  him, 
I  dare  sav,  is  not  ill-placed. 

Our  Winchester  friend  came  to  pay  me  a  visit  last 
Thursday  was  se'nnight,  and  left  me  last  Wednesday.  I 
have  been  under  the  Surgeon's  hands  ever  since  Saturday 
was  se'nnight.  I  can  never  be  thankful  enough  for  the  care 
of  Providence  ;  nor  can  I  ever  forgive  my  own  want  of 
care. 

I  had  a  mind  to  reach  a  book  for  Di-.  Balguy  j  and  it 
being  at  the  very  top  shelf  next  the  great  window,  I  stept 
upon  the  window-seat  to  reach  it :  I  lost  my  balance,  and 
fell  backward.  The  sharp  nozle  of  the  candlestick  cut  my 
ear  (I  don't  know  how)  quite  through.  But  the  bruise  has 
been  much  more  troublesome  than  the  wound,  though  that 
was  a  large  one.  It  was  wonderful,  notwithstanding,  that 
I  escaped  so  well:  it  was  within  half  an  inch  of  being  fatal. 
But  Providence  watches  over  our  second  childhood,  like 
the  first.  Can  I  say  any  thing  more  grateful  of  that,  or 
disgraceful  of  this  f — -But  I  will  run  away  from  this    mor- 


342 

tifying  subject,  to  inquire  of  your  health.  I  flatter  myselt 
that  I  see  you  fixed  in  your  armed-chair,  much  at  your  ease, 
in  i\\^  second  region  of  Lcnv^  with  the  storm  and  tempest  of 
Chicane  flying  all  around  you  ;  but  in  the  empyrean  of  Di- 
vinitij.  In  the  first,  you  see  nothing  calm  or  serene^  but 
the  mind  of  our  Chief-Justice  ;  who,  like  the  Angel  in 
Addison, 

"  Rides  in  the  whirlwind,  and  directs  the  storm." 

We  propose  to  leave  this  place  for  London,  the  day  after 
Christmas-day.  All  here  are  as  much  yours  as  your  own 
family  can  be  ;  who  are  yet  not  so  much  yours,  as  is 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXXXL 

Jwie  2d,  1771. 

I  NEVER  believed  I  should  feci  so  tenderly  for 

as  I  now  do.  A  suffering  friend's  good  qualities,  in  such 
a  condition,  separate  themselves,  and  rise  superior  to  his 
failings,  which  we  are  insensibly  disposed  to  forget.  If 
this  be  the  case  of  common  acquaintance  in  certain  seasons, 
what  must  be  our  constant  sentiments  of  a  real  friend,  at 
all  seasons  ;  who  loses  no  occasion  of  expressing  every 
mode  of  tenderness  towards   those  he  loves  ! 

I  fell  into  this  train  of  thinking  by  what  my  Wife  told 
me,  with  much  pleasure,  a  little  before  I  left  London. 
She  said,  that  Dr.  Hurd  assured  her,  I  would  now  write 
no  more.  I  received  this  news,  which  gave  her  so  much 
satisfaction,  with  an  approving  smile.  I  was  charmed 
with  that  tenderness  of  friendship,  which  conveyed,  in  so 
inoffensive  a  manner,  that  fatal  secret  which  Gil  Bias  was 


343 

incapable  of  doing  as  he  ought,  to  his  Patron,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Grenada. 

I  perfectly  agree  with  you  on  the  superiority  o^ Beattie's 
Essay  to  the  whole  crew  of  Scotch  Metaphysicians,  and 
directed  to  a  better  purpose  than  such  discourses  (com- 
monly full  of  moonshine)  generally  are.  I  have  been  look- 
ing into  him,  and  find  he  appears  to  be  in  earnest ;  which  I 
hold  to  be  no  small  praise  in  this  tribe  of  writers. 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

Ever,  &c. 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXXXIL 

I  WAS  never  more  grieved  and  affected  than  by  your 
last  Letter.  And  did  I  not  flatter  myself  that  low  spirits 
(one  of  the  inseparable  symptoms  of  your  disorder)  make 
the  matter  much  worse  in  your  imagination  than  it  is  in 
reality,  I  should  be  inconsolable.  If  you  should  die,  in  the 
present  state  of  things,  darkness  (as  the  Poet  strongly  ex- 
presses it)  ivill  be  the  burier  of  the  dead :  there  will  not  be 
light  enough  left  to  see  or  apprehend  our  loss.  But  I 
hope  better  things  ;  yet,  while  I  lie  under  the  impressions 
of  worse,  the  madness  of  the  times,  whether  shewn  in  the 
ravings  of  impiety  or  fanaticism,  are  not  worth  my  notice. 
I  only  wait  for  a  more  or  less  favourable  turn  of  your 
disorder,  to  determine  my  intentions  about  a  visit  to  Thur- 
caston.  I  am  in  your  debt  on  the  like  account.  But  this 
is  but  the  weight  of  a  feather  in  comparison  of  what  I 
owe  you  on  a  thousand  other  accounts.  Unless  you  would 
have  me  continue  on  the  rack,  write  daily  to  me  till  you 
give  some  ease  to  my  disordered  mind.  In  hunting 
about  for  it  through  every  quarter,   I  think  I  find  it  in  the 


344 

very  unseasonable  weather,  that  has  infected  every  month 
of  last  Winter  and  this  present  Summer.  I  do  not  ex- 
pect to  be  myself  till  you  are  so.  Autumn  will,  I  hope, 
set  us  both  to  rights. 

MY  BEST,  MY  ENTIRE  FRIEND, 

For  ever  yours, 

W.GLOUCESTER. 

Gloucester^  July  ^d^l77\. 


LETTER  CCXXXIIL 

Gloucester y   July  15///,  177i. 

MY    DEAR    FRIEND, 

I  WAI  FED  till  this  morning  with  impatience  to  hear  of 
vou  ;  and  now  I  have  but  small  satisfaction.  As  you  will 
not  suffer  me  to  come  to  you,  I  must  insist  on  your  com- 
ing to  me.  You  do  not  tell  me  your  companion  ;  and  the 
case  of  your  low  spirits  may  require  variety,  which  you 
will  fin  1  here,  all  of  whom  much  love  and  honour  you, 
both  male  and  female; — and  dissipation  of  thought  will 
be  the  second  best  exercise  you  can  use.  As  to  the  rest, 
you  shall  live  to  yourself ;  in  your  room  while  it  is  agreeable 
to  you  ;  and  never  admit  company  but  when  you  choose 
it,  or  ask  for  it.  My  best  friend,  to  God  and  your  own 
virtue  I  commit  you,  as  your  best  guard. 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 

LETTER    CCXXXIV. 

Gloucester^  September  IZd,  1771. 

MY  DEAREST   FRIEND, 

I  HAVE  your  obliging  letter  of  the  15th. 
I  have  received  two  or  three  letters,  since  you  was  here, 
from  my  Wife.     In  one  of  them  are  these  words  :  "  Mr, 


345. 

''  Hurd's  visit  to  you  I  shall  remember  with  gratitude. 
"  I  reflect  upon  his  friendship,  and  value  it  as  it  deserves. 
"  I  am  rejoiced  at  your  intention  of  accompanying  him  to 
"  Worcester  in  his  way  back."  She  talks  of  not  getting 
back  to  England  till  the  end  of  October.  Your  account 
from  Mr.  Mason,  of  Mr.  Gray's  disposition  of  his  lite- 
rary property  is  very  entertaining.  I  hope  we  shall  have 
his  Fragments  this  next  Winter. 

In  looking  into  Voltaire's  "  History  of  Louis  the  XIV." 
I  found  (speaking. of  Sacheverell  and  his  exploits)  he  has 
these  words  :  *•*  Les  Toris  furent  obliges  d'avoir  recours 
*'  a  la  Religion.  IhHij  a  giiere  aujoura'hui  (1766j  daiis  la 
"  Grande  Bretagne^  que  le  peu  qu'il  en  faut  pour  distin- 
"  guer  les  factions."  This  explains  what  I  told  you  and 
Lord  Mansfield  I  was  so  much  shocked  at ;  (viz.)  the 
French  Nobility,  of  his  acquaintance,  asking  him  serious- 
ly* whether  I  was  in  earnest  in  my  defences  of  Religion. 
They  took  this  scoundrel's  representation  of  the  state  of 
Religion  amongst  us,  for  true  ;  which  though  it  be  bad 
enough,  is  not  quite  so  bad  as  this  calumniator  represents  it 
However,  as  miserable  as  the  condition  of  it  is  at  pre- 
sent I  am  confident  it  will  revive  again  :  but,  as  I  am  no  pro- 
phet, but  only  a  sincere  believer,  I  will  not  pretend  to  say 
how  soon.  The  present  generation  seem  not  to  be  worthy 
of  this  blessing  ;  which  believers  onl}'  are  induigt-d  with  a 
Pisgah-sight  of;  just  sufficient  to  support  and  confirm 
their  faith;  not  sufficient  to  prevent  their  being  laughed  at 
by  the  profligate,  and  even  the  sceptical.  It  will  be  said 
by  these,  that  it  is  natural  to  think  well  of  what  one  has 
defended.  But  they  should  own  at  the  same  time,  that  to 
think  well  of  what  one  has  exavwicd^  is  a  legitimate  preju- 
dice in  favour  of  its  truth.  Next  to  the  interests  of  Reli- 
gion, the  v/elfare  of  a  virtuous  and  learned  friend  is  the 
chiel  concern  of  an  honest  man.  What  therefore  must  be  my 
satisfaction,  to  find   my  !jcst  friend  enjoys  a  good  state  of 

X  X 


346 

health  at  present  !  I  will  never  be  too  anxious  for  his  tem- 
poral concerns,  though  I  ought  to  be  extremely  so,  while  I 
see  himself  so  indifferent  about  them.  But  made  virtute 
yard.  Knaves  and  fools  may  be  the  favourites  of  Fortune. 
I  am  sure  men  like  you  are  the  peculiar  favourites  of 
Heaven. 

Ever  yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXXXV. 

Gloucester,  Jime  23^',  1772. 
I  HAVE  the  pleasure  of  your  kind  letter  of  the  20th, 
by  which  I  understand  you  are  got  well  to  town.  I  shall 
take  proper  order  with  the  Uttle  Welch  Curate^  as  you 
desire.  I  have  spoken  with  Mr.  Stock,  and  we  are  to 
have  the  Churchwarden  and  the  Curate  convened  be- 
fore us. 

Evaason'^  was  more  snge  than  I  expected.  He  knew 
whom  he  was  before.  But  I  judge  him  to  be  a  conceited 
innovator,  from  a  ridiculous  whim  in  his  sermon,  that 
"  the  ir.an  after  God^s  orvn  heart  was  not  King-  David,  but 
King  yfs;/A." — I  an)  tired  of  this  vain  world;  which,  in- 
deed, would  be  intolerable,  but  for  the  few,  such  as  my 
friend,  to  whom  I  am  entirely  devoted,  who  lives  up  two 
pair  of  bad  stairs,  and,  what  is  infinitely  worse  now,  at  a 
great  distance  from 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 

/-'.    S.   Ralph    has  the    most   grateful   sense  of  your  kind- 
ness !     He  was   much  shocked    vesterday,  in   seeing 
as  he  passed   by    from    school,  a  poor  labourer  fall 
from  the  ridge  of  Mr.  Pitt's  house,  before  my  door, 
*  Sec  LeUcr  CCXXIII.    H. 


473 

who  did  not  survive  his  fall  many  minutes.  Ralph 
had  but  a  moment's  time  to  step  aside,  or  he  had 
fallen  upon  him.  But,  as  Shakespear  says,  the  poor 
wretch  has  finished  xveal  and  xvoe. 


LETTER    CCXXXVI. 

Gloucester^  July  \st^  1773. 

MT    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

I  SEND  you  the  inclosed  from  Sir  David  Dalrymple, 
one  of  the  Lords  of  Session  in  Scotland,  called  Lord 
Hailes:  by  which  you  may  see  the  opinion  that  this 
learned  person  entertains  of  you,  and  your  work.*  I 
have  answered  his  letter  in  such  a  manner  at  was  fit.  I 
hope  you  continue  in  reasonable  good  health.  May 
Heaven  preserve  it,  for  the  sake  of  your  friends  and  the 
public,  particularly  for  the  sake  of 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXXXVIL 

Gloucester^  August  12th,  1773. 
I  HAVE  your  kind  Letter  of  the  4rh,  with  your 
friendly  anxiety  for  my  health.  I  have  finished  Chan- 
ning'^s  course,  and,  as  yet,  have  had  no  return  of  my 
disorder.  Channing  supposes  he  has  cured  me,  as  I 
have  yet  had  no  return,  since  a  short  one,  just  on  my 
coming  down  ;  but  time  will  shew  the  issue.  Your  health 
is  as  precarious  as  mine  j  but  all  must  be  submitted  to  a 
^ood  Providence. 

*  Sermons  nn  Prophecy,      J/- 


348 

A  viHinous  music-meeting,  the  fruits  ot  the  reigning 
madness  dissipation^  forces  me  soon  from  home  ;  and,  were 
it  not  that  it  forces  me  to  you,  I  should  execrate  every 
fiddle  upon  earth.  The  worst  of  it  is,  that  my  Son  will 
needs  acccompany  me,  though  I  questioned  his  accommo- 
dation. However,  not  to  alarm  you  too  much,  I  shall 
only  have  Emery,  and  one  footman ;  and  my  Son  and 
Emery  will  only  have  one  room,  with  two  beds.  I  can 
only  stay  a  very  short  time  :  and  my  Son  has  never  yet 
seen  his  Aunt,  at  Brant-Broughton.  And  we  all  think 
decency  requires  that  he  should  pay  her  a  visit :  and  this 
will  be  a  fit  opportunity.  He  goes  thither  on  horseback, 
with  William  ;  and  proposes  to  stay  there  only  two  or  three 
days,  and  then  return  to  us  at  Thurcaston  ;  from  thence 
we  must  go  back  to  Gloucester.  I  understand,  by  a  letter 
I  have  just  had  from  Dr.  Hailifax,  who  is  now  at  Scarbo- 
rough, that  Mr.  Mason,  who  is  likewise  there,  proposes 
to  come  to  us  at  Thurcaston,  as  he  promised.  You  will 
be  so  good  to  let  me  know  whether  you  can  accommodate 
us  both.  If  not,  I  shall  come  with  equal  pleasure  alone, 
without  Ralph  ;  and,  on  account  of  that  pleasure,  I  never 
can  break  an  appointment  with  you  ;  all  of  which,  I  hold 
to  be  sacred  :  though  I  am  in  so  ill  a  repute  in  my  en- 
gagements with  every  body  else,  that  nobody  believes  I 
ever  perform  any  of  them. 
My  dearest  Friend, 

Ever,  and  most  entirely  yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER, 


349 


LETTER  CCXXXVIII. 

Gloucester^  September  21 5?,  1772. 

I  GOT  home  this  day  to  dinner,  and  cannot  defer  a 
moment  to  thank  you  for  your  kind  hospitality  to  me  and 
Kalph ;  not  forgetting  the  corner  of  an  incomparable 
cheese ;  which  was  almost  the  only  thing  I  could  eat  at 
very  bad  inns  on  the  road.  We  got  home  well,  and  in 
good  weather,  and  found  all  here  in  good  health,  and  much 
yours.  My  wife  depends  on  seeing  you  at  Christmas, 
as  we  despair  of  seeing  you  before.  My  Ralph  is  charm- 
ed with  the  house,  and  the  master  of  it,  at  Thurcaston. 

I  will  make  amends  for  the  dryness  and  nothingness  of 
this  Letter,  by  the  inclosed  ;  and  make  amends  for  myself, 
by  assuring  you,  that  there  is  no  one  so  much  and  so  en- 
tirely yours,  as  is  your  friend, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXXXIX. 

Dr.   HURD  to  the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER. 

Lincoln'' s- Inn,  March  llth,  1773. 

MY    DEAR    LORD, 

I  HAVE  two  of  your  Lordship's  favours  to  acknow- 
ledge, one  of  the  24th  past,  and  another  of  the  8th  in- 
stant. I  am  glad  you  have  seen  Mr.  Stuart's  book  : 
I  believe,  he  sent  it  to  all  the  Peers.  As  to  the  subject, 
it  will  supply  us  with  matter  of  conversation,  when  we 
meet. 

I  return  Mr.  Erskine's  letter,  and  am  indebted  to  him 
for  the  obliging  things  he  says  of  my  book. — I  have  been 


350 

this  morning  with  Mr.  Payne,  who  tells  me  the  books  are 
not  yet  arrived.  I  left  orders  with  him  to  send  your  Lord- 
ship's copy  to  Grosvenor-square,  as  I  snp])Ose  you  are  in 
no  haste  to  read  it,  and  would  perhaps  have  it  lie  there  till 
you  come  lo  town  ;  if  not,  I  will  expect  your  further  di- 
rections about  it.  I  desired  iVIr.  Payne  to  send  Lord 
Mansfield's  copy  to  me  ;  and  will  take  care,  when  I  re- 
ceive it,  that  his  Lordship  shall  have  both  that  and  Mr. 
Erskine's  letter. 

Hns  vour  Lordship  seen  the  new  volume  of  Sir  John 
Dalr\  mple  ?  If  not,  it  will  certainly  amuse  you.  It 
abounds  in  curiosities,  and  lays  open  the  intrigues  both 
of  the  Court  ana  Patriots,  in  the  wretched  reign  of  Charles 
II.  in  the  clearest  manner.  It  also  throws  some  light  on 
the  Revolution,  but  less  than  I  expected. 

Dr.  Balguy  is  just  recovering  from  a  fever,  in  which 
his  c(;lds,  I  think,  now  generally  terminate.  He  talks  of 
writing  to  n  our  Lordship  in  a  day  or  two,  and  will  leave 
this  place  in  the  beginning  of  next  week  ;  but  there  is  no- 
thing but  ill  news  of  our  friends.  I  understood  on  Sunday 
last,  at  Bloomsbury-square,  that  Mrs.  Warburton  is  still  at 
Bath,  and  detained  there  by  ill  health.  When  she  is 
enough  recovered  not  to  sympathize  too  much  with  others, 
you  may  let  her  know  that  the  good  woman  she  saw  at 
Birmingham  is  no  more.  We  have  great  reason  to  thank 
God  for  continuing  her  with  us  as  long  as  she  could  have 
any  enjoyment  of  life,  and  for  taking  her  to  himself  in  the 
easiest  and  gentlest  manner.  She  died  in  her  88th  year, 
and  almost  literalls  /t//  asleep^  (as  I  have  the  great  satisfac- 
tion to  learn  from  my  Brother's  letter  on  the  27th  of 
last  month.) 

I  pray  God  preserve  your  Lordship  and  your  family, 
for  the  sake  of  each  other,  and  for  the  sake  of  him  who 
is  ever  the  devoted  friend  and  servant  of  you  and  yours, 

K.   HURD. 


351 


LETTER  CCXL. 

Gloucester^  March  13th,  1773. 
1    DO  not   know  whether  I  ought  to  condole  with  you, 
or   congratulate  you,  upon  the  release  of   that  excellent 
woman,  full  of  years  and  virtues.     I  rejoice  when  I  find 
a  sin^ilarity  of  our  fortunes,  in   the   gentler  parts   of  hu- 
manity.— My   mother,  somewhat  less  indebted   to  years, 
though     not    to  the   infirmities    of  them,    at  length   fell 
asleep,  and  departed,  in  all  the  tranquillity  and  ease  that 
your  mother  did.     The  last  leave  she  took   of  all  human 
concerns,  as  she  winged  her  way  into  the  bosom    of  our 
common  God  and  Father,  was  an  anxious   inquiry  con- 
cerning my  welfare  :  which,  being  assured  of,  she  imme- 
diately   closed    her     eyes    for   ever. — But   I    must   turn 
mine  from  this  tender   subject,  which  will  give  us  both 
relief. 

Stuart's  Book  will,  as  you  say,  afford  us  much  subject 
of  reflection  when  we  meet. — I  thank  you  for  your  care  in 
Erskine's  matter. 

I  have  read  Dalrymple's  Collection  of  Letters,  which 
affords  much  amusement :  and  indignation  at  the  attempts 
of  Charles  and  James  against  their  people,  whom,  instead 
of  being  their  nursing  fathers,  they  sold  at  a  fixed  price 
(as  Sancho  did  his  Islanders,  both  black  and  white)  to  the 
ambitious  and  superstitious  Tyrant  of  France.  But  as 
corrupt  as  our  two  Brolher-monarchs  were,  their  minis- 
ters were  infinittly  more  abandoned  :  nor  did  they  serve 
their  great  deliverer  a  jot  better,  than  they  did  the  two 
infamous  Brothers,  with  whom  they  shared  (and  this  was 
all  their  care)  old  Louis's  louis-d'ors.  As  to  our  deliver- 
ance by  the  Revolution^  these  Letters  tell  us  little  more 
than  what  we  knew  before. 


352 

But  what  does  civil  history  acquaint  us  with,  but  the 
incorrigible  rogueries  of  mankind  ?  or,  ecclesiastical  his- 
tory, more  than  their  follies,  though  they  had  a  much 
better  Teacher  now,  than  Nature  heretofore.  Swift  said, 
*'  he  hated  mankind,  though  he  loved  some  few  individuals, 
"  such  as  Peter,  James,  and  John."  Pope  replied,  "•  that 
"  he  loved  human  nature  ;  but  hated  many  individuals." 
One  had  need  of  that  grace  which  our  Religion  only  be- 
stows, not  to  hate  them  both  ;  to  the  exception  of  two 
or  three  friends,  which  Providence  bestows  on  his  favoured 
few,  of  which,  1  own  myself,  with  all  gratitude,  in  the 
slender  number ;  being. 

My  dearest  Doctor, 

Your  most  affectionate, 

and  entire  friend, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXLL 

Gloucester,  April  26th,  1773. 

THE  papers  from  Mr.  Wilmot  are  come  safe,  and  I 
will  endeavour  to  fit  them  for  the  use  I  intend. 

I  am  pleased  that  Lord  Mansfield  has  published  his  ar- 
gument in  support  of  literary  property.  I  suppose  it  is  in 
a  new  volume  of  the  King's-Bench  Cases.  I  am  in  no 
hurry  for  them  ;  but  will  take  some  opportunity  of  getting 
them  ;  as  I  have  the  two  former  volumes. 

I  am  glad  Mr.  Mason  has  got  so  forward  in  the  edition 
of  his  friend's  Poems.  If  he  thinks  this  a  good  excuse 
for  neglecting  his  correspondence  with  his  surviving  friends, 
in  prose,  I  am  of  a  different  opinion.  Mr.  Pope's  prose 
will  last  as  long  as  his  verse.  And  the  amiable  feeUngs  for 
his  friends  will  more  endear  his  memory  to  posterity,  than 


353 

all  the  thunder  and  lightning  of  his  wit,  though  against 
none  but  the  foes  of  Virtue  and  the  Muse. 

My  Wife  is  atlength  got  from  Bath,  a  good  deal  better  in 
her  health,  though  through  a  desperate  course  of  physic  and 
physicians. — But  with  regard  to  the  preceding  paragraph,  I 
forgot  that  you  yourself  are  got  much  into  the  Masonian 
system.*  God  preserve  you  in  every  system  ;  and  believe 
me,  that  I  love  you,  in  all, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXLIL 

Gloucester^  May  2d,  1 773. 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

I  HAVE  your  kind  letter  of  the  30th  past,  and  shall 
be  much  obliged  to  you  to  secure  the  chambers  imme- 
diately for  Ralph.  If  you  think  Trinity-Hall  the  best  place 
for  a  student  intended  for  the  law,  you  will  write  to  Dr. 
Hallifax,  who,  I  dare  say,  will  give  you  all  the  assistance 
in  his  power.  Whatever  you  do  in  this  affair,  or  in  every 
thing  else  that  relates  to  Ralph's  settlement  at  Cambridge, 
will  be  kindly  acknowledged  and  confirmed  by  me  ;  and 
received  as  the  greatest  obligation  to, 

MY    DEAREST    SIR, 

Your  most  bounden,  assured, 
and  fond  Friend, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 

*  The  Bishop's  health  had,  of  late,  (kclined  vciy  much,  and  writitiff 
was  become  uneasy  to  him.  Yet  his  delicacy  to  his  friends  would  not  allow 
him  to  leave  any  of  their  letters  unanswered.  Hence,  mine  to  him  had, 
for  some  time,  been  shorter,  than  usual,  and  less  frequent.  Of  this  reserve 
he  gently  complains  in  this  letter,  suspecting,  I  suppose,  the  cause  nf  it.     11. 

Yy 


354 


LETTER  CCXLIII. 

Gloucester,  September  25th,  1773. 

I  THIS  morning  received  your  kind  letter  from  Thur- 
caston ;  and  am  much  concerned  tor  your  indifferent  state 
of  he.ilth,  which  brought  you  home  from  your  agreeable 
excursion  much  sooner  than  you  intended.  I  hope  Thur- 
caston  will  restore  you. 

My  Ordination  is  overj  and  though  I  had  given  full 
and  repeated  notice  of  it,  as  you  directed,  I  had  but 
two  Deacons  to  ordain.  The  one  was  rather  too  young, 
and  the  other  rather  too  old.  The  young  one  was  a 
Nephew  of  Dr.  Charlton's  of  Bath,  barely  two-and-twen- 
ty  and  a  half ;  the  other  was  a  Brother-in-law  of  Mr, 
Waller's,  our  late  High  Sheriff.  He  was  more  than  forty; 
and  having,  I  suppose,  impaired  his  fortune,  (though  a 
very  good  and  unexceptionable  character,  of  which  I  have 
an  ample  testimony,  and  amongst  the  rest  from  the  Bishop 
of  St.  Divid's,  who  is  well  acquainted  with  him,j  he 
is  presented  to  a  very  moderate  living  in  my  Diocese,  by 
his  Brother-in-law. 

I  am  glad  Mr.  Mason  so  well  entertained  you  at  Aston, 
and  especially  by  what  has  been  composed  of  Gray's 
Mi-moirs.  I  have  not  yet  heard  from  Dr.  Hallifax.  His 
pupil  will  be  ready  for  him  in  the  beginning  of  November. 
I  have  great  obligations  to  you  for  your  kind  intentions. 
He  will  come  to  you  as  soon  as  he  gets  to  town  ;  where 
I  hope  he  will  find  you  at  your  house,  in  good  health. 
We  are  all  in  tolerable  health  ;  and  shall  be  the  better  by 
hearing  of  yours. 

MY  DEAREST  FRIEND, 

most  entirely, 

and  cordially  yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


355 


LETTER  CCXLIV. 

Gloucester,  November  8t/i,  1773. 

I  HAVE  a  thousand  thanks  to  make  you  for  your 
attention  to  my  Son.  Amongst  the  ariicles  of  good  ad- 
vice you  gave  him,  I  am  sure  you  did  not  forget  this, 
that  in  this  part  of  his  education  his  chief  regard  is  to  be 
had  to  his  studies  and  the  improvement  of  his  mind,  not 
to  his  expenses  of  dissipation.  His  natural  good  dispo- 
sitions, I  hope,  will  not  suffer  too  much  by  his  total  igno- 
rance and  inexperience  of  the  world.  In  this,  I  hope, 
his  servant  will  be  of  constant  use  to  him. 

I  am  sincerely  rejoiced  in  the  amendment  of  your  health. 
We  hope  to  be  in  town  about  the  middle  of  next  month. 
I  thank  God  my  health  is  tolerable,  as  are  my  spirits. 
I  am  ever, 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

your  most  faithful, 

and  affectionate  servant, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXLV. 

Gloucester^  November  26th,  1773. 
I  AM  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  last  favour  of  the 
22d  instant.  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  in  what  you  tell  me 
of  my  son's  conduct  j  nor  had  I  the  least  anxiety  about 
his  being  a  strict  ceconomist :  he  must  live  as  other  sober 
youths,  in  his  station,  do.  I  am  rejoiced  you  are  got 
into  so  fit,  a  house  for  you. The  disorder  of  things  in  it 
will  be  soon  removed.    I  have  very  slender  pleasure  in  this 


356 

journey,  except  in  the  hopes  of  seeing  you  often,  which- 
always  will  afford  me  the  greatest  pleasure,  as  my  best 
iViend. 

I  am  ever  yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXLVL 

Gloucester^  May  30t/i,  1 774* 
I  HAVE  this  morning  received  your  kind  letter  of  the 
28th  instant.     I  yesterday  ordained  my   two   candidates, 
and   shall,  for   the    future,  observe  your  directions  con- 
cerning my  letters  dimissory. 

My  Sister  is  got  safe  to  Cowarn,  in  Herefordshire 
and  we  have  received  a  letter  from  her  and  the  rest  of 
the  family.  You  make  me  happ)^  in  giving  so  good  ac- 
count of  my  Son.  May  I  live  to  see  him  likely  to 
become  an  honest  man  ;  this  is  all  I  wish.  I  do  not  know 
of  any  thing  which  will  so  much  contribute  to  this  great 
end,  as  your  good  advice  and  directions,  for  which  I  am 
infinitely  obliged  to  you. 

Business  would  have  carried  my  Wife  to  Bath  by  this 
time,  had  she  not  been  seized  with  a  fit  of  the  gout  when 
she  was  ready  to  set  out ;  but  I  hope  this  will  not  retard 
her  many  days.     I  am, 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

Ever  most  assuredly  and 

most  cordially  yours, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


157 


LETTER  CCXLVII. 

Gloucester^  July  \9thy  1774» 
I  HOPE  this  will  find  you  well  settled,  and  in  health, 
at  Thurcaston  ;  with  my  best  thanks  for  all  your  kindness 
and  civilities  to  Ralph  in  London,  who  is  full  of  his 
acknowledgments  for  them.  I  hope  you  find  every  thing 
to  your  satisfaction  in  your  Rectory  ;  that  you  may  enjoy 
the  full  pleasure  of  it  while  you  stay  there  ;  and  that  you 
may  return  with  redoubled  satisfaction  back  to  town, 
and  with  more  justice  done  you  there  from  your  powerful 
friends  than  you  have  yet  received  from  them,  not  for 
their  own  sake,  which  yet  should  be  their  concern,  but 
for  the  sake  of  the  public,  which  calls  aloud  for  their 
attention.     I  am, 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

Yours  most  cordially  and  entirely, 

W.  GLOUCESTER, 


LETTER  CCXLVIIL 

Gloucester^  November  7th.,  1774» 
1  DEFERRED  acknowledging  your  last  obliging  Letter 
till  I  heard  you  was  got  safe  to  town.  This  morning  I 
had  a  letter  from  my  Son,  at  London,  informing  me  you 
was  come,  but  with  the  disagreeable  circumstance,  that 
you  had  brought  an  ague  with  you,  which,  considering 
the  time  of  year,  gives  me  much  concern.  But  I  comfort 
myself  that  you  are  got  to  a  place  where  the  best  advice  is 
at  hand,  and  I  trust  in  your  prudence  that  you  will  carefully 
use  it :  nor  be  discouraged  or  neglectful  of  a  return,  so 
common  in    that  disorder,  if  it  should  happen ;  which  to 


358 

neglect,  IS  the  only  danger ;  a  danger  absolutely  in  your 
power  to  avoid,  (but  must  be  carefully  attended  to,)  as  it 
accompanies  the  only  infallible  remedy,  the  bark ;  and 
therefore  ought  to  be  no  discouragement  when  it  happens. 
Though  my  advice  is  of  so  little  worth,  I  could  never 
have  done  giving  it,  where  your  health  is  concerned.  Be 
so  good  to  favour  me  with  a  line.  If  I  understand  you 
.have  no  return,  you  v\  ill  ease  mt  of  much  anxiety,  no  one 
being  more  entirely  and  truly  yours,  your  welfare  being 
so  intimate  to  my  own. 

God  preserve  you,  is  the  fervent  prayer  of, 

MY    DEAR    SIR, 

Your  most  affectionate  Friend, 

Vv.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCXLIX. 

Dr.  HURD  to  the  BISHOP  of  GLOUCESTER. 

Great  Russell  Street^  Bloomsbury^ 
December  2u^   1774. 

MY    DEAR  LORD, 

I  WOULD  not  omit  to  give  your  Lordship  and  Mrs. 
Warburton  the  earliest  information,  that  I  have  been  to 
wait  upon  Lord  North  to-day  ;  and  that  his  Lordship 
has  acquainted  me  that  the  King  has  been  pleased  to 
nominate  me  to  the  Bishopric  of  Lichfield  and  Coventry, 
upon  the  translation  of  Dr.  North  to  Worcester.  This 
is  all  i  have  lime  to  say  at  present ;  and  am  ever, 

MY    DEAR    LORD, 

Your  most  obliged 

and  devoted  humble  servant. 

R.  HURD. 


359 


LETTER  CCL. 

Gloucester^  December  4th,    1774, 

MY  DEAREST  FRIEND, 

YOCJ  have  no  conception  of  the  pleasure  yours  of 
the  2cl  instant  has  given  me,  which  acquaints  me  with 
the  good  news  of  the  King's  bestowing  a  good  Bishop- 
ric on  so  deserving  a  person  ;  which  will  give  universal 
satisfaction.  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  a  long  letter  at 
so  busy  a  time.  But  I  have  wrote  to  Lord  Mansfield, 
with  my  congratulations  on  the  obligations  you  owe  him 
for  his  services  in  this  affair. 

I  shall  now  soon  greet  you  with  another  title,  but  with 
the  same  affection,  in  which,  I  shall  always  be  your  most 
affectionate  Friend, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCLL 

Gloucester,  December  1 7th,  1 774. 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

I  HAVE  your  kind  letter  of  the  15th  instant,  with  the 
resignation  of  the  Archdeaconry,  which  is  done  in  the  best 
and  most  friendly  manner.  I  take  the  liberty  of  inclosing  a 
letter  to  Sir  Edward  Littelton  as  not  being  certain  of  the 
direction,  whether  his  Seat  be  in  Staffordshire. — He  was  so 
kind  to  send  me  a  congratulation  on  the  justice  done  you  :  to 
which  I  answered,  "that  if  any  thing  could  add  to  the  joy  I 
"  received  in  your  promotion,  it  was  his  congratulation, 
"  as  I  knew  it  was  accompanied  with  a  warmth  of  pleasure 
"  equal  to  my  own." 


360 

I  do  not  wonder  you  should  prefer  Lichfield  and  Co- 
ventry to  Bangor,  on  many  accounts. 

God  preserve  you  in  health,  which  is  now  all  you  want ; 
and  believe  me  to  be, 

MY    DEAREST   FRIEND, 

Youis  most  entirely, 

W.   GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCLIL 

February  15th,  1775. 

MY    DEAR    LORD, 

I  HAVE  waited  with  impatience  to  salute  you  Bishop 
©f  Lichfield  and  Coventry  in  full  right.  May  you  long  live 
in  health,  for  the  sake  of  the  public  in  the  first  place,  and 
then  of  your  friends. 

I  have  the  greatest  confidence  in  your  friendship,  as  I 
hope  you  have  in  mine.  It  is  a  supreme  pleasure  that  I 
leave  you  in  the  hands  of  a  more  useful,  infinitely  more 
honourable,  it  is  impossible  he  should  be  a  more  sincere, 
or  warmer  Friend,  than, 

MY    DEAR    SIR, 

Yours  most  entirely, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCLIIL 

February  21st,  1776. 

MY    DEAR    LORD, 

I  HAVE  the  pleasure  of  yours  of  the  19th  instant,  ac- 
quainting me  with  the  choice  of  an  Oxford  man  of  cha- 
racter, for  the  next  person  to  preach  our  Lecture  ;  which 
gives  me  much  satisfaction. 


361 

May  God   be  pleased  to  bless  my  weak  endeavours  in 
Kis  service.     I  am, 

MY    DEAR    LORD, 

your  most  faithful 

and  affectionate  Friend  and  Servant, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCLIV. 

^uly,  1776. 

MY    DEAR    LORD, 

I  HAVE  your  favour  of  the  21st  of  the  past  June.  I 
wish  yoa  all  happiness  and  success,  and  long  life,  in  your 
*iew  station.*  Nothing  can  give  me  so  much  pleasure  as 
your  perfect  satisfaction  and  content  in  all  that  concerns 
you. 

I  will  not  give  you  the  trouble  of  a  long  letter,  "which 
would  be  incommodious  to  you  in  your  present  station: 
but  will  only  add,  that  I  am  ever 

Your  most  faithful  and  affectionate 
Friend  and  Servant, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCLV. 

November  2d,  1776. 

MY    DEAR    LORD, 

I  LEFT  in  your  hands    a  Will  made  in   the  life-time 
of  my  poor  Son,  which  I  have  now  altered   in  my  Wife's 

*  Of  Preceptor  to  the  Prince  of  Wales  and   Prince  Frederick.  M 

Zz 


362 

favour ;  so  that  I  must  beg  the  favour  of  you  to  throw  that 
into  the  fire  which  is  in  your  possession.     From, 

MY    DEAR    LORD, 

Your  most  faithful, 

and  affectionate  servant, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 


LETTER  CCLVL 

MY    DEAR    LORD, 

I  AM  to  thank  you  for  your  valuable  volume  of  Ser- 
mons to  the  Society  of  Lincoln's- Inn.  I  have  read  them 
with  the  usual  pleasure  I  take  in  all  you  write  :  they  have 
the  same  elegance  and  excellence  with  the  rest.  I  hope 
both  your  health  and  leisure  will  enable  you  to  oblige  us 
with  more  of  the  same  kind.  In  the  last  Discourse,  I 
think,  you  have  explained  the  action  of  Christ  very  right- 
ly  and  clearly. 

I  remain,  my  dear  Lord, 

your  very  faithful 
and  affectionate  Friend  and  Servant, 

W.  GLOUCESTER. 
December  I9th,  1776. 


363 


LETTER  CCLVII. 

[^Indorsed thus,  "  Tothe  Lord  Bishop  0/ Lichfield  ojic/ Coventry, 
"  to  be  opened  and  delivered  to  him  at  my   Decease.     W.   G."] 

To  my  dear  Friend^  Dr.  Richard  Hurd, 

Lord  Bishop    of  Lichfield  and  Coventry* 

I  DO  hereby  press  and  conjure  him,  to  take  under  his 
particular  care  and  protection  my  dear  Wife  ;  and  to  af- 
ford her  all  his  assistance  and  aid,  against  all  persons 
that  may  be  disposed  to  injure  or  bear  hard  upon  her. 
And  this  I  press  him  to  do,  and  likewise  assist  her  with 
his  best  advice,  in  memory  of,  and  in  return  for,  the  warm 
and  sincere  affection  I  have  always  borne  towards  him. 
This  earnest  request  I  enforce  under  my  hand,  this  8th 
day  of  April,  1776. 


APPENDIX: 

CONTAINING 

LETTERS* 

FROM 

THE  HONOURABLE  CHARLES  YORKE 


MR.  WARBURTON. 

LETTER  L 

July  Isty  ir4a. 

DEAR    SIR, 

I  WAS  pleased,  on  returning  home  the  other  day, 
after  an  excursion  of  a  few  weeks,  to  find  your  first 
volume  waiting  for  me,  with  a  most  agreeable  Letter  from 
yourself,  full  of  kindness  and  vivacity.  To  speak  the 
truth,  I  had  been  meditating,  before  I  received  yours,  to 
say  something  to  you  on  the  very  piece  you  allude  to  ; 
but  vou  have  prevented  me  in  it : — I  thought  also  of  con- 
gratulating you,  but  you  seem  to  require  condolence. — 
And  surely  without  reason.  What  signifies  it  that  your 
adversaries  are  not  worth  contending  with  ?  It  is  a  proof 
that  men  of  sense  are  all  on  your  side. — Like  the  spectres 
whom  iEneas  encountered,  you  cannot  hurt  them  by  any 
weapons  :  but  it  should  be  remembered  on  the  other  hand, 
they  do  not  injure,  but  tease,  and  will  follow  you  the  less, 

•  Some  use  having  been  made  of  these  letters  in  Bishop  Warburtoa^s 
liife,  it  seemed  not  improper  to  give  them  entire  in  this  place.     K 


565 

the  more  you  endure  and  despise  them. — You  should  for- 
give them  too  ;  for  you  began  hostilities.  The  only  pro- 
vision in  the  constitution  of  things  for  the  dull  is  the  indo- 
lence of  the  ingenious.  Therefore,  when  a  man  unites 
great  application  to  great  parts,  throws  down  the  ftnces 
of  prejudice,  and  strikes  out  new  paths  in  knowledge, 
they  confederate  against  him,  as  a  destroyer  of  their  merit, 
and  a  dangerous  invader  of  their  property. 

After  all,  it  is  a  serious  and  melancholy  truth,  that  when 
speculative  errors  are  to  be  reformed,  and  received  opi- 
nions either  rationally  opposed  or  defended,  the  matter 
cannot  be  attempted  without  much  censure.  The  discreet 
upbraid  you  with  imprudence  ;  the  prejudiced,  with  ab- 
surdity ;  and  the  dull,  with  affectation.  It  is  a  censure 
however  which  generally  arises  from  interest  ;  for  the 
v/orks  of  such  as  you,  contribute  to  bury  many  useless 
volumes  in  oblivion. 

I  rejoice  that  you  approve  of  the  further  remarks  I  sent 
you  on  a  few  passages  in  Tunstall's  Epistle  ;  not  only  on 
account  of  your  candour  in  doing  it,  but  because  your  sa- 
gacity has  confirmed,  what  I  had  thrown  out,  by  two  or 
three  very  elegant  turns  of  argument.  Whenever  you 
treat  a  subject,  you  leave  nothing  to  be  said  after  you, 
and  for  that  reason  can  always  improve  upon  others.  But 
this  is  a  trifle.  The  new  edition  of  your  book  shews  that 
you  can  even  improve  upon  yourself.  Tully,  I  think,  says 
of  his  behaviour  in  the  offices  of  friendship,  cceteris  satis- 
Jacio^  quummaxime^  mihi  ipsi  niinquam  satisfucio^  And 
in  writing,  it  is  one  mark  of  a  superior  understanding,  not 
to  be  contented  with  its  own  produce. 

Your  correspondence  is  exceedingly  acceptable  to  me.— - 
When  I  am  conversing  with  you  on  subjects  of  literature 
or  ingenuity,  I  forget  that  I  have  any  remote  interest  in 
what  is  going  forward  in  the  world,  nor  desire  in  any  time 
of  life  to   be  an  actor  in  parties,  or,  as  it  is  called  some- 


366 

where,  subire  tenipestates  reipnhlicct.  But  when  I  find 
every  body  inquiring  to-day  concerning  the  rtport  of  the 
Secret  Committee  yesterday,  this  passion  for  still-life  va- 
nishes ; — agilis  Jio^  et  viersor  cvoUibus  undis. 
I  am,  dear  Sir,  with  the  greatest  affection  and  esteem, 
Your  most  obliged 

and  faithful  humble  servant. 

CHARLES  YORKE. 


LETTER  IL 

Wimple^  September  &Oth,  1746. 

DEAR    SIR, 

I  HAVE  been  very  unfortunate  of  late  in  different  at- 
tempts to  see  you.  Two  or  three  days  before  you  left 
London,  in  July,  I  called  at  your  lodgings,  but  once  you 
were  gone  out,  just  after  my  pursuit  of  you  from  Powis- 
House  :  and  another  time,  being  the  evening  immediately 
preceding  your  journey,  you  were  gone  to  bed.  I  hope 
however  that  the  papers  which  you  lent  me  were  delivered 
safe  into  your  hands  :  it  is  needless  to  tell  you,  that  I  read 
them  over  several  times  with  great  care,  and  was 
much  pleased  with  the  clearness,  ingenuity,  and  exactness 
of  them,  as  well  as  their  importance.  Those  are  qualities, 
which,  however  rare  in  other  writers,  are  so  ordinary  in 
every  thing  of  yours,  that  to  dwell  on  the  mention  of 
them  would  be  not  so  much  to  commend  you,  as  to  be- 
tray a  very  blameable  ignorance  of  your  works,  by  seem- 
ing to  observe  them  now  for  the  first  time.  But  my  prin- 
cipal misfortune  was,  the  not  meeting  you  at  Bath,  where, 
instead  of  yourself,  I  found  a  very  kind  letter  from  you, 
which  gave  me  much  concern.  I  was  glad  to  hear  after- 
wards from  Mr.  Allen,  that  your  Nephew  was  better, 
but  extremely  sorry  to   be  deprived  of  your  company,  at 


367 

a  time  and  place  which  would  have  heightened  the  en- 
joyintnt  to  me.  Indeed  nothing  could  have  made  amends 
for  this  loss  in  any  tolerable  degree,  but  the  great  kindness 
and  politeness  with  which  I  was  received  by  the  owners 
themselves  of  Prior-Park.  The  natural  beauties  of  wood, 
water,  prospect,  hill  and  vale,  wildness  and  cultivation, 
make  it  one  of  the  most  delightful  spots  I  ever  saw,  with- 
out adding  any  thing  from  art.  The  elegance  and  judg- 
ment with  which  art  has  been  employed,  and  the  afl'ecta- 
tion  of  false  grandeur  carefully  avoided,  make  one  won- 
der how  it  could  be  so  busy  there,  without  spoiling  any 
thing  received  from  nature.  But  even  scenes  of  this  kind, 
which  had  alone  made  other  places  agreeable  in  my  jour- 
ney, were  the  least  of  its  charms  to  me.  I  soon  found 
those  scenes  animated  by  the  presence  of  the  master  :  the 
tranquillity  and  harmony  of  the  whole  only  reflecting  back 
the  image  of  his  own  temper  :  an  appearance  of  wealth 
and  plenty  with  plainness  and  frugality  ;  and  yet  no  one 
envying,  because  all  are  warmed  into  friendship  and  grati- 
tude by  the  rays  of  his  benevolence.  It  was  my  lot  to  be 
hurried  away  from  Bath  somewhat  earlier  than  I  designed 
by  a  summons  from  my  Father  ;  but  I  will  not  despair  of 
other  opportunities  of  meeting  you  there,  and  paving  my 
respects  to  the  same  friends.  Mr  Allen  was  so  good  as 
to  shew  me  the  two  first  volumes  of  your  Shakespear, 
which  I  rejoice  to  see  advanced  so  far.  I  had  only  time 
to  read  over  the  first  volume,  which  gave  me  the  highest 
entertainment.  It  is  no  great  compliment  to  tell  you, 
that  there  is  more  genius  in  a  little  finger  of  your  Com- 
mentary, than  in  the  loins  of  thf  heav)  Oxford  edition  of 
this  Poet.  I  observed,  that  you  had  with  a  pen  in  the 
margin  added  new  notes,  sometimes  with  great  success  ; 
and  now  and  then  not  doubted  cecdere  vineta  tua.  You 
have  with  excellent  learning  and  acumen  pursued  the  gene- 
ral principles  of  your   commentary  in  particular  instances, 


368 

nnd  shewn  that  what  is  principally  requisite  to  the  under- 
standing ot  Shakespear,  is  expounding  his  antiquated 
words  and  allusions  ratht-r  than  amending  his  text,  which 
has  too  often  ended  in  corrupting  it.  A  very  slight  thing 
struck  into  my  mind,  whilst  I  was  reading  Pleasure  for 
Measure,  and  because  it  did,  I  will  mention  it,  whether 
it  be  right  or  wrong  ;  if  you  differ  from  me,  I  am  sure  it 
is  wrong.  You  will  easily  remember  the  passage,  to 
which  I  canot  refer  correctly,  not  having  the  book  by  me. 
The  Duke,  in  the  character  of  a  Friar,  says  to  Claudio, 
(in  order  to  prepare  him  for  death,  and  dissuade  him  from 
a  reliance  on  his  Sister's  intercession  with  Angelo,) 

"  Do  not  satisfy  your  resolution    with  hopes  that  are  fallible  ;" 

which  you  would  alter  to  foilsify,  and  give  an  ingenious 
reason  for  it.  Now  from  the  notion  you  have  given  me 
of  Shakespear's  language,  I  incline  to  think  the  first  is 
the  true  reading.  The  word  satisfy  is  often  applied  in 
common  speech  to  the  making  up  an  account  between  two 
persons  ;  and  so  in  one  sense  is  synonymous  to  dischar- 
ging. Discharging  in  another  use  of  it  is  synonymous  to 
dismissing.  And  then  the  passage  is  thus  made  out,  do 
not  satisfy  your  resolution^  ^c.  that  is,  do  not  discharge  or 
dismiss  it  for  the  sake  of  hopes  which  will  disappoint  you 
in  the  issue. 

I  believe  I  forgot  to  tell  you  a  circumstance  of  the  Bishop 
of  Oxford,  which  I  ought  to  have  mentioned  long  since 
by  his  particular  desire,  (as  long  ago,  I  think,  as  last 
Euster.)  Somebody  or  other  had  told  him,  that  you  had 
been  misinformed,  in  relation  to  the  part  he  took  in  the 
election  at  Lincoln's-Inn,  and  that  you  had  complained  a 
little  of  his  having  interested  himself  against  you.  The 
Bishop  was  concerned  to  hear  it ;  expressed  his  regard  for 
vou;  and  more  than  once  desired   me  very  particularly  to 


369 

acquaint  you  how  the  matter  stood  ; — that  Mr.  Upton 
(Lord  Talbot's  Chaplain)  had  solicited  him  both  by  him- 
self and  others  to  speak  to  the  Lord  Chancellor  in  his  favour, 
at  the  time  when  several  candidates  were  talked  of:  that 
he  did  accordingly  mention  it  to  the  Chancellor,  who  told 
him,  that  such  friends  as  he  could  think  it  proper  to  soli- 
cit, he  had  already  engaged  for  Mr.  Warburton  :  upon 
which  the  Bishop  said,  "  My  Lord,  it  is  the  first  lime  I 
*'  have  heard  his  name  mentioned  for  the  thing ;  if  that 
"  be  so,  I  am  glad  of  it,  and  have  no  more  to  say."  And 
accordingly  spoke  to  nobody  else.  I  told  the  Bishop  that 
my  Father  had  before  given  me  exactly  the  same  account 
of  what  passed  between  them  upon  the  suiiject,  and  that  I 
was  sure  you  could  not  lay  any  weight  upon  such  misinfor- 
mation as  he  supposed  you  to  have  had.  To  say  the  truth, 
the  thing  made  little  impression  upon  my  mind,  as  of  no 
great  consequence,  which  was  the  cause  of  mv  forgetting 
to  mention  it ;  for  which  I  am  to  ask  your  pardon,  and  the 
Bishop's  too. 

Mr.  Lyttelton,  whom  I  visited  at  Hagley,  spoke  of  you 
kindly,  and  charged  me  with  his  compliments  to  you.  He 
wants  much  to  have  the  third  volume  of  your  Divine  Le- 
gation committed  to  the  press,  for  the  further  illustration 
of  your  great  theme  ;  and  added,  that  Lord  Bolingbroke 
was  clear  you  never  meant  to  continue  it.  I  took  occasion 
to  tell  him,  what  I  do  every  body,  that  you  have  been  so 
much  engaged  of  late,  either  in  your  private  affairs,  or  in 
other  works  which  friendship  or  accident,  or  the  times,  de- 
manded of  you,  that  you  have  had  little  leisure  for  it : 
but  that  now  you  should  find  opportunities  to  pursue  it. 
And  this  leads  me  to  take  notice  of  what  you  said  in  one 
of  your  last  letters,  "  that  you  found  no  temptation  from 
*'  a  late  performance  on  the  case  of  Abraham,  to  break 
*'  your  promise  with  me  for  not  writing  more  against  your 
**  adversaries."     In   my  apprehension,  nothing  could  be 

:.  A 


370 

better  juilgcd.  And  that,  without  attending  in  this  instance 
to  the  m.-rit  of  the   performance,  from  the  reasons  which 
we  agreed  to  be  decisive  upon  the  matter.     It  is  to  be  ex- 
pected, where   any  writer  has  the  marks   of  an  original, 
and  thinks   for   himself,  producing   de   suo  pemi^    things 
wholly  new  to  most  understandings,  that  some  will  have 
their  difficulties  to   propose  ;  others  their  tenets   to  main- 
tain ;  and  itw  will   give  a  ready  assent  to  truths  which 
contradict  prevailing  notions,  till  time  and  posterity  have 
wrought   a  gradual  change  in  the  general  state  of  learning 
and  opinions.     AVhat  wonder  then,  that  many  should  write 
'against  you  ?     How  natural  that  you  should   defend  !     It 
was  expected  from  you.     The  zeal  for  knowledge  is  com- 
mendable :  the  deference  to  mankind  becomes  you.     But 
here  lies  the  mischief.     You  and  your   adversaries    stand 
upon  unequal  ground.     They  engage  with  that  best   friend 
and  second  on  their  side,  vulgar  prejudice.     Let  their  in- 
sinuations be  ever  so  malignant,  provided  they  write  diilli^^ 
they  gain  the  character  of  writing  coolly.     How   natural 
that  you  should  expostulate  !     If  your  expostulations  have 
been    sometimes    too   warm,    they    were    not    the    bitter 
overflowings  of  an  iil-natured  mind,  but  the  unguarded  sal- 
lies of  a   gviuerous   one.     Yet  even  such  sallies  are  scarce 
forgiven  you':  not  because  those  you  answer  have  deserved 
better,  but   because  sensible  and  candid  men  are  disposed 
to  think  too  well  and  too  highlv  of  you  to  forgive  that  in 
you,  which  they  would  overlook  in  others.  And  therefore, 
could  modesty  permit  you  to  reverence  yourself  as  much 
as  I  do,  you  would   wait  with  patience  that  period,  when 
aiuxvers  will  be  forgotten  :  unless  (according  to    the  epi- 
gram in  Martial)  you  choose  to  give  flies  a  value  and  an 
immortality  by  entombing  them  in  amber.      It  is  to  flatter 
me  exceedingly  to   intimate,  that  I  have  contributed   to 
lead  you  ipto  these  sentiments,  in  which  the  very  taediura 
of  controversy  and  the  pursuit  of  nobler  designs  must  ne- 
cessarily confirm  you. 


371 

Should  you  want  to  explain  or  vindicate  any  passages  in 
your  work,  it  may  be  managed  either  by  enlarging  parti- 
cular parts  of  it  for  a  new  edition,  by  adding  notes,  or  by 
an  apology  at  the  end  of  the  whole  ;  and  this  without  any 
personal  disputes  whatever.  I  ask  ten  thousand  pardons 
for  saying  so  much,  though  you  gave  me  a  fair  occasion  ; 
since  I  am  conscious  it  is  unnecessary,  being,  as  to  the  re- 
sult of  it,  a  transcript  of  your  own  thoughts.  For  this 
reason,  I  have  some  doubts  whether  I  should  not  throw 
this  letter  into  the  fire,  instead  of  sending  it.  But  you  are 
so  used  to  indulge  my  officiousness,  and  take  it  wtll,  that 
I  grow  bold  in  adding  to  the  instances  of  it. 

I  am,  dear  Sir,  with   the  greatest  truth  and  esteem, 
Your  obliged  and  affectionate 
humble  servant, 

CHARLES  YORKE. 

P.  S.  I  imagine  you  will  be  in  town  a  few  days  before  the 
term.     I  shall  be  there  on  the  13th  of  October. 


LETTER  IIL 

August   l6?/i,   1753. 

DEAR    SIR, 

I  HAVE  delayed  answering  your  most  kind  letter, 
till  I  could  speak  with  some  certainty  of  my  projects  for 
the  long  vacation.  It  is  needless  to  tell  you,  that  when 
it  is  a  question  between  spending  my  time  with  you,  and 
any  other  company,  it  requires  some  firmness  to  break 
from  you;  nay,  more,  one  must  have  a  love  of  your  studies, 
and  a  sense  of  the  importance  of  them,  to  make  one  value 
your  leisure  enough,  not  to  disturb  it,  bj'  too  long  and 
frequent  visits  :  and  let  me  add,  that  I   endeavour  to  con- 


372 

vince  myself,  it  is  dangerous  to  converse  with  you;  for 
you  shfw  me  so  much  more  happiness  in  the  quiet  pur- 
suits of  knowledge  and  enjoyments  of  friendship,  than  is 
to  be  found  in  lucre  or  ;mil)ition,  that  I  go  back  into  the 
world  with  regret  ;  where  few  things  are  to  be  attained, 
without  more  agitation,  both  of  the  reason  and  thepassions, 
than  either  moderate  parts,  or  a  benevolent  mind,  can  sup- 
port. The  truth  is,  after  being  long  divided  between  the 
two  schemes  of  staying  at  home,  or  crossing  the  sea  again, 
I  have  determined  upon  the  latter,  at  the  kind  instances  of 
my  Brother,  the  Colonel,  though  I  do  not  propose  to  stay 
iiiany  days  with  him.  If  I  can,  I  will  see  the  President, 
and  (should  the  weather  prove  fine)  will  follow  him  to 
Bourdeaux.  But  at  present  this  part  of  my  scheme  is  a 
little  visionary. 

I  am  greatly  obliged  to  Mrs.  Warhurton  and  you,  for 
your  proposition  of  staying  at  Prior-Park.  No  retirement 
is  more  agreeable  to  me  ;  but  I  must  defer  that  pleasure  till 
Christmas.  Besides,  I  think  you  will  both  be  wanted  at 
Weyn^outh  ;  and,  if  it  is  expected,  she  ought  to  go.  I 
suppose  you  will  both  laugh,  when  you  read  this  ;  but  I 
am  always  free  in  advising  my  friends,  and  love  to  be  ad- 
vised by  them.  Pray,  ask  her  pardon  in  my  name,  that  I 
have  forgot  Erminia  in  Tasso  so  long,  and  not  transcribed 
it.  When  you  have  me  at  Prior-Park,  I  will  transcribe 
it:  and  obey  all  her  commands.  As  to  the  election  at 
Merton,  Mr.  Harris  would  have  been  glad  to  have  served 
Dr.  Hartley,  but  was  engaged  before  for  Dr.  Bearcroft's 
Son. 

You  desire  me  to  give  you  a  copy  of  the  President's  last 
short  letter  to  a]e. — It  runs  thus  : 

"  Monsicvt\  mon  ties  cher  et  tres  illustre  Atni ;  " 

"  J'ai  un  paquet  de  mes  ouvrages,  bons  ou  mauvais, 
-'  a  vous  envover  ;  j'en  serai  peutetre  le  porteur ;  il  pourra 
"  arriver  que  j'aurai   le  plaisir  de  vous    cmbrasser  tout  a 


37S 

"  mon  aise — je  reniets  a  ce  tems  a  vous  dire  tout  ce  que 
"  je  vous  ecrirois.  Mes  sentimens  pour  vous  sont  graves 
"  dans  mon  cceur,  et  dans  mon  esprit,  d'une  maniere  a  ne 
"  s'effacer  jamais.  Quand  vous  verrez  Monsieur  le  Doc- 
"  teur  Warburton,  je  vous  prie  de  lui  dire  I'idee  agreable 
"  que  je  me  fais  de  faire  plus  ample  connoissance  aveclui; 
"  d'aller  trouver  la  source  du  s^avoir,  et  de  voir  la  lumiere 
"  de  I'esprit.  Son  ouvrage  sur  Julien  m'  a  enchante,  quoique 
"  je  n' aie  que  de  tres  mauvais  lecteurs  Anglois,  etque 
"  j'ai  presque  oublie  tout  ce  que  j'  en  s^avois.  Je  vous 
*'  embrasse,  Monsieur.  Conserves  moi  votre  amitie  ;  la 
"  mienne  est  eternelle. 

"  MONTESQUIEU. 
"rt  Paris,  ce  6  jfuin,  1752. 

"  L'Abbe  Salier  et  Monsieur  de  Fontenelle  vous  saluent." 

As  it  is  very  short,  I  give  it  you  verbatim.  His  heart 
is  as  good  as  his  understanding  in  all  he  says  or  writes  ; 
though  he  mixes  now  and  then  a  little  of  the  French 
dinquant,  with  all  his  brightness  and  solidity  of  genius,  as 
well  as  originality  of  expression.  I  will  find  an  opportunity 
in  the  winter  of  sending  him  your  Sermons,  and  will 
present  your  respects  to  him  next  post. 
Ever  yours. 

Dear  Sir, 

C.  YORKE. 
P.  S.    Compliments    attend  Mrs.  Warburton,  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Allen. 


3'74 
LETTER  IV. 

Highgate^  Juiy  11///,  1764. 

5[Y  DEAR  LORD, 

I  WAS  meditating  to  write  to  your  Lordship  an 
answer  to  a  very  cheerful  and  agreeable  Letter,  which  I 
had  the  honour  and  pleasure  of  receiving  from  you,  when 
the  news  of  poor  Mr.  Allen's  death  reached  me.  The 
truth  is,  being  in  the  hurry  of  business,  and  neglecting 
the  news-papers,  I  did  not  hear  of  it,  till  two  or  three 
days  after  it  was  known.  If  an  event  of  that  sort  could 
strike  or  wound  one,  after  so  many  losses  in  my  own 
family,  immediately  following  one  another,  this  event 
must  make  the  strongest  impression,  as  it  related  to 
myself,  who  regret  a  friend,  and  to  your  Lordship,  who 
mourns  a  parent.  But  such  he  truly  was  to  all  mankind, 
to  all  who  came  within  the  reach  of  his  care  and  bounty. 
In  short,  he  was  a  rare  example  of  piety  and  charity  :  one 
of  those  excellent  persons,  who  always  die  too  soon  for 
the  world.  He  will  be  sincerely  and  universally  lamented. 
And  that  circumstance  I  have  often  thought  a  pleasing 
advantage,  which  amiable  and  benevolent  men  have  over 
the  great  and  ambitious. 

1  am  anxious  to  know  how  Mrs.  Warburton  and  your- 
self do,  after  this  shock.  May  I  beg  you  to  present  my 
best  compliments  of  condolence  to  Mrs.  Allen,  Miss 
Allen,  and  the  rest  of  the  family? 

When  I  know  where  your  Lordship  fixes,  I  will  trouble 
you  hereafter  upon  other  matters.  But  I  feel  too  much, 
when  I  touch  this  string  to  your  Lordship,  to  be  capable 
of  writing,  as  I  ought,  upon  any  thing  else. 

I  am,  my  dear  Lord,  always  most  faithfully  and  affec- 
tionately. 

Your  friend,  and 

humble  servant, 

C.  YORKE. 


375 

LETTER  V. 

February  2dy  176T* 

MY    DEAR    LORD, 

I  CANNOT  resist  the  impulse  of  thanking  you  in 
three  words  for  the  perusal  of  your  new  Discourses,  as  well 
as  your  last  Letter.  All  the  fruits  of  your  friendship 
are  pleasing  to  me.  The  book  was  most  eagerly  devour- 
ed in  the  Discourses  which  I  had  not  read  before,  and 
kept  up  my  attention  ever)'  where.  How  do  you  manage 
always  to  say  something  new  upon  old  subjects,  and 
always  in  an  original  manner  ?  The  bookseller  favoured 
me  with  it,  just  on  the  eve  of  the  30th  of  January,  and 
within  three  days  of  Candlemas  ;  one  of  them  the  great- 
est Civil  Fast  in  England  ;  and  the  other,  the  greatest 
Religious  Festival  of  Anti-Christ.  Your  Lordship  has 
furnished  me  with  such  meditations  for  both,  that  I  must 
add  it  to  the  account  of  my  obligations,  and  remain  always, 
Your  Lordship's  most  faithful 

and  affectionate  humble  servant, 

C.  YORKE. 

P.  S.  Pray  make  my  best  compliments  to  Mrs.  Warbur- 
ton,  in  which  Mrs.  Yorke  desires  leave  to  join,  as  well 
as  to  your  Lordship. 


/y€-l4--f^t|.4*.-C€..J 


M-^  t  !^ 


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